


Clockwork

by eledae



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Automaton!Seonghwa, Automaton!Yeosang, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Eventual Smut, Hephaestus!Mingi, Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa, Non-Consensual Kissing, Nymphs!Woosan, Original Character(s), Persephone!Yunho, Side Jeong Yunho/Jung Wooyoung/Choi San, Steampunk, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 76,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27091621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledae/pseuds/eledae
Summary: One lousy handful of pomegranate seeds and god of the spring Yunho is doomed to spend half of each year in the realm of the dead, where Hades is slowly but surely stripping him of everything he loves.He's got exactly one friend in the Underworld, three-headed best dog ever Cerberus -- until the hellhound digs a hole into the underground workshop of the reclusive weaponsmith to the gods, cranky genius (and secret marshmallow) Mingi.
Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi
Comments: 114
Kudos: 190





	1. Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> All thanks to @pinkycelly whose yungi art is GORGEOUSLY AMAZING and who invented persephone!yunho and hephaestus!mingi in the first place!  
> Update: you can see @pinkycelly’s [jaw-droppingly luscious hephaestus!mingi](https://twitter.com/pinkycelly/status/1332473252829159424?s=21%20rel=) on twt now! I am in awe ❤️
> 
> Update: the phenomenal @amusingghost has made an utterly perfect [steampunk inventor Mingi](https://twitter.com/amusingghost/status/1333490533436571648?s=21%E2%80%9D%20%20rel=) which might have made me lie down and tear up a bit when I saw him, ngl, please check him out too! ❤️
> 
> This story is kinda multi-headed like Cerberus or Mingi’s bath-house hydra... the plot’s loosely based on Beauty & the Beast, if you squint a bit and pretend the Beast is also the inventor, and there’s no Stockholm Syndrome. Please also disregard the fact that if you look too closely everyone’s probably everyone else’s uncle-in-law, because... Greek myth. 
> 
> The title is courtesy of Taemin’s beautiful, heartbreaking song of the same name.

Cerberus is one third unshakeable terrier, one third fool dog and one third lying-on-his-back, paws-in-the-air sweetheart. Hades used to say that’s why the dog got on so well with Yunho, who’s a fair mix of those things himself. Of course, that was back when Hades used to talk to Yunho. Back before the great divide, the slow death, whatever he wants to call it. The Big Freeze.

Yunho thinks it has more to do with the fact that he’s warmer than anything else in the Underworld, and probably still smells like living things despite the way this place robs all good things of their scent. He’s a minor god of the spring; he’d be like a backyard of faint and intriguing aromas to Cerberus. Plus, he gives good ear scratches, and the three-headed dog has a lot of itchy ears. 

He likes to tell Cerberus stories about the world up above while he’s giving him head rubs. At least one head’s usually good to listen, even if the other two are distracted and snapping at the ghosts who drift in to listen, or asleep in a puddle of their own drool. It’s usually Terrier who’s awake and alert, bright golden eyes following his hands while he sketches shapes in the air.

“Waves! They’re like the moving bit on top of the ocean. The ocean’s kind of like Styx, but even bigger, and a prettier colour, kind of green. Or blue. Or grey, depends on the weather.”

Terrier bends his head into the scratch so hard he can feel his knees start to buckle. 

“But yeah, waves, and sometimes there are whitecaps, they look like apple blossoms? Oh, that’s right, you don’t know blossoms.”

Everything always seems to come back to flowers, with him. Comes with the territory, god of the spring and all. He misses them so much, all winter long. And of course there’s not a single flower to be had anywhere in the vast parklands of the Twilight Realm, just endless foggy fields and the rows of pale lifeless trees that are never ever going to bud and grow leaves. Which makes it triply surprising when Cerberus comes back from one of his mysterious rambles one day with a special present he’s unearthed for Yunho.

Literally. There’s earth on it. Black volcanic soil, smelling like home. Terrier - of course it’s Terrier - drops it in his lap with a metallic clang.

Huh. Not a sound flowers usually make. But then most flowers aren’t made of - brass? Bronze? It’s the most beautiful colour, a rich, tawny reddish-gold with darker seams where the petals have been welded to the base. It’s small - maybe the size of the palm of his hand - and shaped something like a lush, fully opened rose. At the end of the stem, a metal filigree of roots hold actual soil in their mesh. He rubs the earth between his fingers.

Not only does it smell like home, like good growing things… it’s warm. It holds the remains of a heat that makes his fingers tingle.

“Where’ve you been, boy?” he asks Terrier, as the dog shakes the soil off his muzzle with a snap of his shaggy head. All over the floor of the second best parlour, too. Luckily the carpet is the same dark dreary tones as everything else in Hades’ mansion and the dirt tones right in, but he’s still going to have to get that cleaned up before he catches shit for letting the dog into the house.

Cerberus flops onto the carpet and leans his Sweetheart head up against Yunho, assuming the scratch position. Yunho takes hold of the topknot of coarse ginger hair falling over one of Sweetheart’s soft brown eyes, gives his head a soft shake.“Tell you what, I’ll give you a scratch if you show me where you got this gorgeous thing.”

Terrier leans around to snuffle at the flower and then snorts, as if something about it offends his keen nose. Yunho sniffs it, carefully. It smells like a match that’s just been blown out. Sharp, smoky. Maybe a hint of sweetness? Or maybe that’s wishful thinking. 

Terrier pulls the other two up out of their flop and they grumble at him, snappish, but willing to show him where they’ve been on the promise of a head scratch. Yunho follows the dog out of the parlour and into the hall where a trail of dirt runs right across the black and white tiles, all the way to the front door. Well, that’s not good. He stops to kick the clumps of dirt out of way and under the hall rug as best he can.

“Hang on, buddy,” he calls to the dog who is nudging the door open with one giant paw. Terrier whines impatiently as Yunho gets rid of the evidence. He’s out the door as soon as Yunho is done, across the gravel drive and into the foggy fields beyond.

After checking to make sure he’s following, Cerberus pads along fast enough to keep him just this side of breathless. Mostly, it’s because of the clothes Hades insists on him wearing; a formal suit with a shirt and waistcoat buttoned too tight to take a deep breath, and shoes so stiff and heavy he feels like he’s wearing boats on his feet. He sheds the jacket as he runs, planning to come back for it later. The bronze rose he wedges down the front of his waistcoat as best he can.

Cerberus spends a lot of time roaming the vast estate but Yunho’s never been able to muster much energy to explore, so he’s not sure where they’re heading. So much of the Twilight Realm looks the same - dead white trees, the clawed and muddy banks of the Styx, endless fog - and anything new he finds is usually something he wants to wash out of his memory with a wire brush anyway. 

The dog runs on through an avenue lined with giant stone urns that he stopped to read once, inscribed with poems about the miseries of mortal life. Beyond them lie a series of terraces he’s never seen before, dropping down towards rows of dark thorny trees sculpted into the shapes of contorted bodies. Yunho apologizes to the shades he’s running through as he goes, swirling at him through the thickening fog.

Eventually they come to an open field and Cerberus veers towards a small hill appearing slowly out of the fog. By the time he sees the hole beside it - the reason for the hill of dirt - he’s almost on top of it. The dark earth smells of damp and rot; not the good natural rot of mulch and leaves, but something bad that’s been buried too long and started to decay.

The dog throws himself down at the lip of the hole, tail wagging and all three heads panting happily at what they’ve done. 

“Oh Cerberus, bad dog of my heart, there isn’t a rug big enough to hide all of this.” 

He doesn’t know where Hades stands on property damage, but he’s guessing a giant hole isn’t going to go down well… pun kind of intended. The one time he suggested landscaping in the grounds around the mansion he got a look cold enough to put ice on the Styx. He sinks down to sit on the edge of the hole and dangles his legs over the side. At least his suit is as dark as the damn carpets back at the mansion. It’s not going to show up the black earth now caking the back of his trousers. 

“How far does this go?” he asks, and Cerberus gives him an encouraging little yelp before plunging in ahead of him. Looks like it’s shallow enough for him to jump down into and follow, if he wants. That’s the question, though. Up here, it’s gloomy as Zeus’ armpits, but there’s enough air to breathe and no danger of being caved in. Down there? The stench of rot and a dense, unrelieved darkness. That, and the faintest hint of heat threading through the chill of the fog, and the fact that the bronze flower came from that hole, somehow.

And he misses flowers.

He slides down into the hole, one arm muffling the overwhelming smell with his shirt sleeve, and follows the dog into the dark. He has to bend his head and shoulders, but there’s just enough room for him in the tunnel. If only he smoked like Hades, he’d have a lighter he could use about now. Instead all he’s got is the sound of Cerberus padding along the tunnel in front of him, and the crumbling dampness of the earth wall under his outstretched fingers. 

He quickly loses all sense of direction in the pitch blackness, although there’s a faint burn on his calves that suggests the tunnel is running deeper underground. His shoulders start to ache with tension, heart rate accelerating until it’s kicking like a rabbit. He’s a god of the open meadows, not the endless press of the dark, dead earth. It’s like being buried alive.

When he finally realises he can see the faintest hint of his pale sleeves and hands it’s a relief. All of a sudden he can breathe again. He starts to be able to see the shaggy shape of Cerberus’ back end and the sweep of his wagging tail. The dog speeds up again, paws pattering on the rough earth. The tunnel opens out suddenly into a low lit passageway, full of exploded buttery yellow tiles where Cerberus has evidently just dug his way straight through a wall. 

Yunho pokes his head out into the passageway. Apart from Cerberus, already halfway down the passage and disappearing around a curve, everything is still and silent. Adding _life-sized painting_ to his shopping list of cover-ups, right after _boatload of rugs_ , he climbs over the lip of the hole. The air’s getting warmer as the passage descends further in a gentle slope, winding its way back and forth like the course of a river. 

At the end of the passage Cerberus is waiting for him in what looks like some sort of entrance hall with a high plaster ceiling. Arches lead off from it in all directions, each corridor decorated in a different shade of ceramic tile. All warm tones, though. Yellow, gold, apricot and orange, a rich hibiscus red. 

Cerberus bounds through the largest archway and Yunho follows him out into a wide open space paved with pale stone. His first thought is that he’s somehow found his way outdoors, even though he knows at the back of his mind he’s somewhere deep underground by now. It’s a garden, a pretty little indoor garden, nestled under a high ceiling painted the softest shade of blue. 

It’s the scent that really hits him first; rich, living earth, a dark loamy smell that feels like coming home. He’s rooted to the paving for a long moment, unsurprised to find his cheeks wet when he lifts a hand to brush at his eyes. Then he’s across the floor and on his knees, gently digging his fingers into the earth to feel it’s warm, beautiful grit against his skin. He wants to inhale the garden whole. He wants to rub his whole face in the dirt and just bathe in it for a bit. His whole body’s telling him that he’s back where he belongs, like the earth itself is giving him the warmest hug and welcome back.

Only gradually does he take in the rest of the garden. There are dozens of metal flowers planted in beds all around him. Nearest to him are bushes of roses, complete with metal leaves and needle-like thorns. Their petals are rust brown and soft amber, bright coppery pink and brassy yellow. Below them are tiny silvery steel sweet peas, with twining wire tendrils draping across the dirt below. At the back of the garden are glazed ceramic plum trees bearing milky enamel and pink glass blossoms. Hanging overhead are strings of coppery lanterns with pinprick holes cut through them. He can imagine how they’d look when they were lit, how they’d dot the garden below with soft spirals and patterns of warm light. 

At the centre of the garden is some sort of raised platform. A stage, maybe? But no, it’s heaped with pillows and soft rugs. It’s… a bed? An outdoor bed. The whole garden has an air so sweet and so intimate that he doesn’t need to be told he’s an intruder here. Even if it weren’t for the pile of earth where Cerberus has clearly been digging and the muddy pawprints and the three-headed dog-shaped dent in the pillows. Oh, Zeus’ craggy asscheeks, his dog has been sleeping in this pretty little bower and using it as his dogbed.

He’s still trying to brush as much dried mud as he can off the pillows when he realises that there’s someone else in the room with him, a slim gold metallic figure standing beside the bed. He looks like some kind of fancy sculpture, only he definitely hadn’t been there when Yunho came in. Also, he’s wearing an elegant cream-coloured suit, and most people don’t dress up their garden statues. 

There’s something ever so slightly asymmetrical about his face, like he was built for perfection and then just skewed a little somehow. A wryness twisting the pretty mouth, a mixture of innocence and knowingness in the dark golden brown eyes. The fine white gold filaments of his hair are drawn back into a ponytail with a cream ribbon. 

“I don’t recall inviting you in.” The statue has a deep, softly spoken voice. “But I’m guessing you’re the owner of the dog who paid us a visit?”

 _Us?_ He gets to his feet swiftly and bows a greeting. Do you shake hands with talking statues? Automata, that’s the word. He’s an automaton. What are the pleasantries? 

“I’m sorry, yes, he’s with me. Cerberus, he’s Cerberus. I’m Yunho.” Cerberus lumbers to his feet and comes to sniff at the metal man. Sweetheart in particular approves; he bats his heavy skull against the statue’s legs and one articulated hand comes down to pet the dog’s topknot gently.

“Yeosang.” 

“I’m going to fix it all up, your bed and everything. I’ll clean it all up. This dog, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s very sweet, but it’s not my bed. I’m not much of a sleeper, to be honest. I’m also not the one you need to explain to. Let me introduce you.” 

He moves off into the hall. When Cerberus follows them, Yeosang holds up a hand and bends down to look all three heads in the eyes in turn. 

“Best you stay here, okay? Where we’re going, you’re likely to break something.” 

Fool Dog cocks his sleek white head, confused and challenging, lips wrinkling as if he’s about to start growling, but Sweetheart snaps at his floppy ear and Cerberus sinks down onto his haunches at the entrance to the bower.

Yunho follows Yeosang back through the hall and down a corridor tiled in all the rich, dark shades of autumn leaves. He knocks on the heavy double doors at the end of the hall before opening them and ushering Yunho through into a cavernous workshop. The work benches are littered with scraps of metal, tools of all shapes and sizes and crates of gears, nails, cut gems and all sorts of odds and ends. A wide fireplace on one wall is sending out an almost solid wall of heat from the white hot fire blazing on the hearth. Yunho finds himself drifting towards it helplessly, before he realises that there’s someone else in the room.

His first thought is that the man working at one of the benches is another automaton, but then he realises it’s just one leg that’s strapped with leather and metal from thigh to foot. Complex gears and pulleys run bright and coppery down the length of his heavy serge trousers, but the rest of him is flesh and blood. He’s in a dark sleeveless shirt, the lean muscle of his shoulders and arms smudged with soot and oil, leather belts holding tools at his waist. The russet streaks in his dark hair are tinted a red-gold in the light from the fire, as if he’s one of his own metal creations. 

Yeosang waves a golden hand at the craftsman, managing to be both mannerly and mocking at the same time. “Allow me to introduce my lord and master, Mingi. All hail the creator.”

Yunho knows him now, the god he’s managed to stumble across with the help of his terrible dog. He’s a blacksmith, a sculptor, a master weapon maker for the other gods. All Yunho knows about him is that he’s a recluse who lives under a volcano, and that gossip suggests it’s a really bad idea to mention him around his mother, Hera. Well, that, and apparently he now shares some real estate with the Twilight Realm, thanks to Cerberus and his amazing ability to dig holes. 

Mingi moves slowly around the workroom, gears shifting on the metal strapping around his leg, testing and tightening components on what looks like a weapon of some kind. There are projectiles with fine metal tips shaped like leaves, the same rich red-brown as his flower but beaten thin as paper. They’re built for some sort of lethal-looking bolt-thrower that seems to have been designed to be used by someone with the upper body strength of a bear.

When the smith god glances up at Yunho, his face is a curious mix of elegance and harshness; angular cheekbones, a long, fine nose and a wide mouth, but marked by a lack of expression that leaves no space for kindness. There’s a flat wintry chill in his eyes that reminds him momentarily of Hades. After that one cold lightning bolt of scrutiny his eyebrows twitch upwards dismissively and he turns back to his work.

“You’re Yunho?”

Even his voice is harsh, a low rumble.

“Yeah, how…”

“The tag on the dog.”

Oh, he’d had it made almost as a joke, in the upper world. MY NAME IS CERBERUS. IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO YUNHO IN THE TWILIGHT REALM.

He never in a million years thought anyone other than him would see it; who else was ever likely to bother reading it, the shades? Hades despises the potential for dog hair and drool too much to go anywhere near his loveable puppy. It was just a joke between him and the mutts, designed to be clipped onto the loose leather collar on Fool Dog, the middle head. 

“Show Yeosang where he’s getting in and we’ll block it off.”

He waits a moment, but it’s clearly a dismissal. The golden automaton waits at his side expectantly. 

“Wait.” He doesn’t really know where he’s going with this, just that this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to him all autumn and he doesn’t want to go, not yet. Besides, the fire is warming his back and it feels… cosy. He’s never had that feeling down here - Hades’ mansion is all cold ash, no fires allowed - and he can’t bring himself to leave. Not straight away. “I should probably give you this back.” He digs the bronze rose out of his waistcoat. “Cerberus dug it up, I’m so sorry.”

The smith god glances back. “Throw it in there.” He points a leaf-bladed bolt at the fire.

“What? No!”

“It’s just scrap, that’s where it belongs. Yeosang, I’ve asked you before to torch that garden.”

“And if I do that, where are you going to go when you can’t sleep?”

The smith gives him a look. 

“It’s his wedding garden,” the automaton explains. 

“Shut up!”

“You’re married?”

“To Aphrodite,” supplies Yeosang.

“... Huh.” He knows Aphrodite. She doesn’t act… married. He had no idea she was married, especially to some cranky subterranean craftsman. Her tastes run more towards hulking gangsters like Ares, drop dead pretty boys like Adonis or wild child nymphs like Nomia. Mingi here isn’t a hulk or a picture perfect pin-up boy, and he’s no nymph gone wild. He’s something else entirely.

At the moment he’s looking at Yeosang like he’ll be the next thing added to the fire. “I drew up blueprints for six automata. Take a guess why I stopped at one.”

Yunho holds up the bronze flower. “If you don’t want this, can I keep it?”

Mingi tosses a bolt head onto the pile in a clatter of metal and leans back against the bench, arms crossed. “Why? So you can tell Hades how I made a garden for Aphrodite and she thought it was hilarious that I lived under a mountain and couldn’t get her real flowers for her wedding night?”

That sounds weirdly cruel for the Aphrodite he knows. She’s usually pretty canny at picking her targets, and he can’t see her marrying someone just to tapdance all over their heart. Can’t see her marrying at all, though, so what does he know. He winces, realising he’s cradling the flower against his chest as though he wants to protect it. “Ah, no? I just thought it was pretty.”

Mingi mouths the word _pretty_ as if he doesn’t understand it, and his lips flatline in a completely humourless smile. “It’s junk. It belongs on the fire. Yeosang, I want that garden gone.”

“Sure you do,” murmurs the automaton. 

“Seriously,” says Yunho, “I don’t know if you’ve ever visited the underworld, but it’s surprisingly awful. This flower would be the prettiest thing there, easily.”

“Maybe for half the year.” Yeosang twitches an eyebrow suggestively at Yunho and then cups his hands over his mouth, dissolving into embarrassed laughter. “Sorry, just practising.”

Mingi turns on him, pointing a bolt head accusingly. “I did _not_ build you to flirt.”

“Shouldn’t have given me free will if you didn’t want me to learn new skills. Who else am I going to practice on - you?”

The thought of flirting with the smith god makes Yunho’s brain spin. He’d probably fire one of those metal bolts through anyone stupid enough to try it. 

“Alright, fine. Keep it. If it means that much to you. Just take your dog and go.” Mingi turns back to his work again. He’s sharpening the leaves of the bolt head with a ferocity that leaves no room for further conversation. He’d be more convincing if Yunho hadn’t just for a moment seen the misery underlying the anger in his eyes. It’s not just wounded pride. It matters to him, the garden. It matters.

Yeosang touches Yunho’s sleeve, indicating the door with a delicate tilt of his head, all flirtatiousness vanished. Yunho pulls himself away from the fireside with a shiver as he leaves the comfy heat behind. He’s already missing it. The harsh rasp of metal on metal follows them down the corridor, double doors closing behind them.

At the entrance hall, Cerberus hauls himself up to greet them. Yeosang accompanies the two of them back down the yellow corridor towards the tunnel where they came in.

“I’m really sorry,” says Yunho. “About the hole in the wall, the garden, everything.” Whatever nerve he’s clearly stepped on with Mingi.

Yeosang hears what he’s not saying clearly enough. “Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s just not good with the unexpected. We’ve got our routines, everything ticks along on its paths like it should. Mess, interruptions, they throw him. He gets anxious.” Sweetheart throws back his head to whine in apology and the automaton tugs on the dog’s topknot reassuringly. “Not me, I’m good with mess. It adds texture.”

“You’re not really going to torch the garden, are you?” The thought of that cute little hideaway melted into twisted scrap makes him sad.

“I would, if I thought it would help. But he still needs it right now, so don’t worry, it’s staying.” They reach the hole and Sweetheart butts up against Yeosang’s shoulder with an unhappy whine. “You know, if you want, you could both come visit it sometime? The garden.”

Yunho wonders if he’s being used for more flirting practice, but the automaton just seems to be being friendly, nothing more. “Aren’t you supposed to block up the hole?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Yeah, but that bolt thrower could hurt me if he reacts badly to unexpected interruptions.”

“What, him? Use that?” Yeosang’s laugh is a helpless little series of gasps. “Unlikely. No, he's making that on commission for Ares.”

“That’s… how is he okay with that? Does he know, about Ares and Aphrodite?”

“Yeah, he knows. Everyone knows, as far as I can tell, and they’re not exactly trying to hide it. I’m the one he sends upstairs for supplies, I get to hear the gossip. Let’s just say his marriage is complicated. What you saw back there, the way he was? She’s been to visit recently, and she doesn’t come down here that often. That throws him off balance, too.” 

Yeosang lets Terrier sniff his hand before the dog ducks his shaggy head for a scratch. “You should come back though, if you want. I think he could use another friend. One he hasn’t built himself, anyway.”

He doesn’t say _I hear your own marriage isn’t exactly in rosy health_ , but maybe that’s there too in his offer, if he’s up on his gossip. Yunho finds himself nodding and shrugging both. “I’ll come back. If I can. Like him, it’s… complicated.” If Hades finds out, he’s perfectly capable of filling in the tunnel on a whim, or hiding it away somewhere in the fog where even Terrier’s nose won’t find it.

He’s not possessive - not of Yunho, anyway - but he likes things to stay just as they are, coldly perfect and perfectly cold. He’s also very close to his sister Hera, and not likely to want Yunho involved with anything that’s going to piss her off. 

He clambers over the rim of the hole, back into the dark tunnel.

“Wait.” Yeosang pries one of the hall lights off the wall and tosses it to Yunho. It’s a flat box made of milky white glass with iron seams. It’s dark now, but he can feel the remnants of warmth in it still. “Give it a tap.”

Yunho taps on the glass and it starts to glow with a soft yellowish light, brighter golden glints swirling beneath the glass like fireflies. For a brooding weaponsmith with a lousy temper, why is everything Mingi makes so damn pretty it makes his heart happy? 

Sweetheart gives Yeosang one last happy snuffle and then pushes past Yunho to trot off back down the tunnel. Holding the glass box up high to light his way, Yunho follows him back towards home.

  
  
The dining room table is so long that it takes a full ten seconds to skid down it in stockings. Yunho knows that for a fact; back when they were new together, there was a time when he slid right down the whole damn thing, skidding himself to a stop just in time to be able to fall into Hades’ lap at the end, tipping him backwards in his wingback chair and following him down to the ground for a heated makeout session. 

Memories like that, they’re nothing but a confusion to him now. Each night at dinner, Hades sits untroubled at the end of the table in his immaculately tailored suit, ignoring Yunho completely. His long dark hair, just brushing his shoulders, is so neatly styled that you’d never imagine there’d been a time when he’d just smile if Yunho ran a hand through it to mess it up. 

Each night, there’s an exquisitely prepared meal that Hades samples selectively, while Yunho watches on. He’s allowed to eat, sure, but there would be consequences. Rules are rules, as Hades likes to remind him, and rules are why he’s still here every year. Six pomegranate seeds, half a life sentence. He doesn’t need to eat to sustain himself, not in the Underworld, but food… it’s something he misses, for sure.

His only consolation is that something here in the Twilight Realm seems to swallow up any pleasurable scents, so even though it looks as though Hades is enjoying the juiciest beef ribs and some sort of spicy soup full of luscious droplets of chili oil tonight, there’s no smell, none at all. At least he’s getting better at not watching the mouthfuls disappearing from the silver cutlery like some sort of hungry pet, but Hades does like him to pay attention. 

He’s trying, but tonight his attention is diverted by the box at Hades’ elbow. It’s a simple parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string in a friendly bow. Hades doesn’t usually bring anything with him to the table, so it’s throwing him. There’ll be a reason for it. There’s always a reason. It’s about the size of a human head, but that probably means nothing. Hopefully.

Hades finishes chasing the last of the beef juices around his plate with the heel of a soft bread roll and pushes his plate away. Then he stands, scoops up the box, still chewing, and strolls towards Yunho. This is new, and new is never good in this place where nothing changes. A cold thread of apprehension trickles down the back of his neck and he sits up, watchful.

The box lands on the table next to him. It’s close enough to see the name on it now; _his_ name written in familiar spiky handwriting, little purple ink flowers decorating the letters. His heart starts to beat faster with a queasy mix of excitement and fear. Excitement, because it’s from home - his real home. It’s a care package from his ma and the nymphs. Fear… because it’s from home. Hades hates his sister Demeter, and he’s fully capable of dropping the box into the Styx just to make a point.

He has to play this so carefully. There’ll be a condition, there always is. Hades is watching him patiently, waiting to regain his attention. When he’s sure Yunho’s looking at him, he pulls something out of his pocket in a slither of silver, reflecting the candlelight. He holds it up for Yunho’s inspection as he swallows the last of his dinner at last. It’s a silver necklace made of heavy, flat links, with a clasp in the shape of joined skeletal hands.

“You’re giving me jewelry?” Is it some sort of anniversary - has he forgotten something? They don’t give each other presents, or at least not for a long while. He’s got nothing to give, anyway. More of the rules: the only thing he’s allowed to bring with him on the steam launch across the Styx is a coin for the ferryman. 

Hades has a smooth voice that perfectly matches the glossy hair, the slick dark ice of his gaze. “I forget that you’re such an easily pleased creature. Like a jackdaw. ‘Oh, shiny!’ No, it’s not a gift, as such. This is for you to wear while you’re here. Otherwise, you’re a distraction.”

He settles the chain around Yunho’s neck. The metal pricks against the skin of his throat with an icy chill as he tries to keep his head still. Some hint of confusion on his face seems to make Hades smile.

“Oh, no, not a distraction to me. I’ve long since exhausted your rather limited charms. But you disturb the shades, and that disturbs me. You’re too warm.”

“Yeah, you used to like that.” He used to be almost poetic about the warmth of Yunho’s mouth on him, the feeling of his fingers on him, inside him, Yunho fucking him until they were both flushed with heat and slick with sweat. 

Hades considers him. “It was interesting at first, all that warmth. I enjoyed the contrast. But I exhausted all of its possibilities swiftly enough. You were so responsive, and even that becomes predictable after a while. Speaking of which, give me your wrists.”

Yunho blinks, holds out his hands. He can’t help himself and his eyes fall briefly on the wrapped box. Hades inclines his head slightly. Yes, if he behaves well he’ll get his package. Probably. Hades has always held all the power in their relationship; he was only ever playing around with the idea he might give some of it up to someone like Yunho. A rare burst of anger hits him, and for some reason it’s Mingi’s face he thinks of, the combination of fury and misery in his eyes. It’s been a couple of weeks since his visit, but he hasn’t been back yet.

Hades fixes silver bracelets in a similar flat-linked style around each of his wrists. They’re cold, so cold that they continue to chill him even after his own body heat should have been making them more comfortable. The necklace sits cold and heavy at his neck too, like cool fingers encircling his throat. He tries to shift it over the collar of his shirt but it’s too tight.

“Leave it be. It needs to touch your skin to have its effect.”

“Which is?”

“You can feel it, I’m sure. It’s bringing you down to a more acceptable temperature for the Underworld. I’ll remove it when you leave for the spring and summer, but you’ll wear it while you’re here. For the sake of the shades, and the peace of the Twilight Realm.”

Yunho holds out his arms and shakes the wrists, chill already spreading down his hands and settling into his bones like an ache that isn’t going to go away. “Why don’t you just let me go? Not just for six months. Just…. go. For good. You don’t want me here.” And sweet Gaea, it’s been so very long since I wanted to be here with you. 

Hades smooths down Yunho’s collar, taking his time. “Because I keep what I take. It’s my brand. I’m known for it. It’s enough that your bitch mother has won the concession she has from me, that you leave me half the year.”

“So that’s it? This is us, forever?” 

_Because - and not to be dramatic - I think I’m dying a little each autumn when I come back across the river. And each spring, a little less of me is coming back to the place I love best._

He searches Hades’ face for just a flicker of the person who won his heart all those years ago; the whimsical sense of humour, the sharp brain, the silver tongue. It’s all there, but it’s locked under ice and indifference. He’s still that person, just not for Yunho.

“Oh, I’d be willing to release you. For the right price. But it’s nothing you can pay, flower boy.”

He picks up the package and tosses it to Yunho. “Enjoy.”

  
  


Yunho turns the copper taps on and lets water stream into the big square bathtub with the curving paws. He checks the door again, but the key’s still there and it’s still locked. No sound from the hall outside, no movements under the door. As the tiny tiled bathroom starts to fill with steam, he feels the tension in his shoulders and chest start to loosen fractionally. He sits on the stool beside and bath and just lets his head and hands hang for a moment. Maybe the steam will ease the chill from his new jewelry. He’s hopeful.

Shades come and go with the wisps of steam, and he ignores them as best he can. They’re just shapes, occasional faces. They don’t talk, mostly. There’s usually not enough of them left. It could be his imagination, but there seem to be a few more than usual. Might be something to get used to if this jewelry’s going to make them more comfortable around him.

He turns the box in his hands, just taking a moment to enjoy the feel of it, the potential. He shakes it gently, sniffs at the wrapping. Oh Gaea, there are _flowers_ inside. He can smell the friendly purple bite of lavender, the sweetness of rose petals. He realises he’s pressing his face against the wrapping like it’s an old friend he’s greeting, checks the door again. Closed, locked.

He undoes the string and pulls open the wrapping and the box below. At the top are two gauzy scent bags full of wood shavings and dried petals, lavender and pink rose. They’re tied with white and purple ribbons, and he cradles one to each cheek for a moment. The scent won’t last long here, so he wants to make sure he makes the most of it. Absently he registers that the bath is near full and turns off the taps. 

His mother hasn’t sent a letter, it’s not her way, but he can practically hear her voice talking him through these gifts, he knows just what she’d say. 

_The lavender’s for sleeping, I know you don’t dream right when you’re there. Pink rose is to make sure you stay gentle, stay kind. Don’t lose who you are._

An aroma of beef is making his mouth water and he digs out the next gift in the care package, a bundle of beef jerky sticks also tied with a ribbon. He grins; they’re for Cerberus. He talks a lot about the dog when he goes home. He’s a safe, happy story to tell that can always deflect people nicely from other topics. He’s going to love the jerky. Yunho’s so tempted to eat it himself, but he’s never sure enough of the rules to know whether it’s eating the food of the Underworld or eating while in the Underworld that screws him. 

Next in the pile is a stack of notes from the nymphs. They’re not big writers either; mostly they’re just scrawled shapes, happy faces and smiling flowers and big love hearts full of stars and kisses. He can feel the tears prickling at his eyes as he tucks them away inside his coat pocket. He loves those guys. Under the notes is a flat wooden box painted with a yellow sun. He cracks the lid and has to stop for a moment to take in the contents.

Seeds - they’ve sent him seeds. The box is divided neatly into dozens of compartments, each with its own type of seed or bulb. He can feel the potential in them like a little haze of happiness rising off each, busy with warm wordless dreams for the future. Marigolds, poppies, sweet alyssum, violets, snapdragons, daffodils, jonquils and more. 

Spring flowers, wildflowers; they’re so little and hopeful and sweet… and he has literally nowhere to plant them. The dead earth of the Twilight Realm warps or kills almost anything new and growing - he knows this from bitter experience - and anything that’s hardy enough to muscle up a leaf or two, well, Hades is just going to dig it up and use it as a garnish on his dinner. There’s no safe plot of land, and no good soil.

Except, of course, there is.

_I couldn't give her real flowers for her wedding night._

That cloud of pain rising off the blacksmith like steam off a bath. What if he could help him grow real flowers for Aphrodite? That rich, beautiful soil he’s got in his wedding garden, all it would need is a supply of water, and something like sunlight. And surely someone who can make a glass box light up could rig up some sort of underground sunlight for plants? If it comes to it, Yunho’s got his own small talents too, to help them grow.

Real flowers, growing safe in secret. The feeling under his fingers of healthy green things growing, the perfection of air and water and light working their simple magic. Colours, the bright and soft colours of real flowers, sweet Gaea he misses them so _bad_.

He flips the lid closed carefully and hugs the box to his chest, making sure to keep it well away from the punishing cold of his new necklace. He wants this so badly it scares him, because anything he wants down here is fair game. But he already knows, he’s going to try. All he has to do now is convince the blacksmith.

The rich gamey scent of the jerky is already fading when he uses it to fetch Cerberus the next morning. He’s standing on the rim of the dry stone fountain in the driveway, balanced against the plumpest of the sculpted porpoises, the one that looks like it’s hiding a set of shark teeth in its smiling snout. He waves the dried meat through the air, hoping there’s enough juice left in the aroma to bring the dog.

Sure enough, there’s a clattering of paws and Cerberus comes barreling around the corner of the house, scattering shades in his wake. He throws himself at Yunho’s feet, tail sweeping gravel in all directions. Fool Dog’s already reaching up to try and snag the jerky from his hand and Terrier’s snapping at him to make him stop, but Sweetheart’s giving him the biggest, most melting puppy eyes because he’s the smartest of the three, and he knows Yunho too well. He throws a jerky strap to each head and gives them each a pet. 

“Come on, boy, we’re going on a walk.”

The light box and the bronze flower are still where he’s hidden them, in the smallest of the stone urns along the way to Cerberus’ hole. He fishes out the light box and gives it a tap. It glows warm and bright and he finds himself smiling as he walks the rest of the way through the fog.

When he gets through the tunnel he has a moment of fear that Yeosang will have changed his mind and bricked up the hole, but the automaton has stuck to his word. The yellow tiles are sitting in a neat stack next to the wall, but everything else is just as it was. 

Yunho steps through, followed by Cerberus, whose tail is already wagging hard enough to make it look like he’s dancing. Yunho grabs Sweetheart’s topknot. “Can you find the metal man? Find Yeosang?” There’s no way he wants to come across Mingi first, not if he thinks that hole has been walled off and he’s safe from unwanted guests.

Cerberus bounds off down the passageway and Yunho follows. By the time he gets to the entrance hall though, he’s lost all sight of the dog. He listens at the doorways but the whole warren of corridors is silent. Without another plan, he finds himself drifting towards the garden. He just wants one look, just one more chance to touch the soil again. 

The room is darker than last time, and someone’s lit the lanterns. It looks as pretty as he thought it would; maybe even prettier, with the patterns of soft dotted light gleaming gently on the metal and glass of the flowers. He thinks for a moment that Cerberus has come back in here to sleep, until the dark shape on the bed stirs at his arrival and realises that no, oh no, it’s much much worse than that. 

It’s Mingi, and he was asleep. On his own bed, in the privacy of his own home, asleep. Not now, though. Now he’s looking startled and furious and like he’s about to throw something harder than a pillow, if only he can find a weapon.

“Yeosang!”

He’d forgotten how deep Mingi’s voice was. He’s also got a piercing yell, apparently. Well, that’s fair, Yunho would be yelling too if someone showed up bedside without an invitation. How has he screwed this up so badly before he’s even gotten started?

He backs away, hands raised. “I’m sorry, look, I know I shouldn’t be here and you want me gone, I’m so sorry.”

Mingi slaps his hand down on a glass box beside the bed and the room brightens. Now he looks puzzled as well as startled and furious. “Yunho?”

“Now that I’m here, though.” Where is he even going with this? “Um, since I’m here, I’ve brought something for you.” He unstraps his satchel hurriedly. “I know Cerberus tracked mud all over your bed. And I was going to bring you clean sheets but trust me, you don’t want to sleep on Underworld sheets, they’re starchy and grey, kinda like shrouds?” He’s rambling, stop rambling Yunho, get to the point. “Anyway, I thought that this might be useful.” 

He steps forward and holds out the lavender scent bag, to which the last bright threads of scent are still clinging. “It’s good for dreams. And it’ll make your bed smell nice.”

He braces himself, given the absolute lack of clues he’s getting from Mingi’s now expressionless face. Shot with a bolt, or donked on the head with some kind of hammer? 

Instead, the blacksmith reaches out to pluck the scent bag from his hand. Carefully, he raises it to his face and inhales before letting out a soft, slow breath, like he’s thinking it through.

Yunho closes his mouth on the last of his babbling - _not that your bed doesn’t smell nice, not that I’ve been sniffing your bed, because I haven’t_ \- and makes himself wait. 

“I’m sorry.”

Okay, of all the phrases he was expecting to hear in that low, husky voice… that one's not even on the long list.

Mingi picks up the pile of metal and leather lying beside him on the bed - _it’s a weapon!_ supplies Yunho’s helpful brain - and holds it up. He lays it out along his leg and starts to strap it onto the loops on his leather boot.

“Yeosang said I was being rude the other day. He said I owe you an apology. I don’t like owing people, so. Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Yunho’s still trying to deal with the weird reversal. “My dog slept on your _bed_. I came through a hole in your wall, a hole that my dog also made. I’m pretty sure you’re not the one who owes the apology.”

Mingi tightens a strap, shrugs. “Okay, and now you’ve given me that thing for dreams.” He waves a hand at the lavender bag. “So we’re good, right?”

“Why are you always trying to get rid of me?” It comes out before he can stop himself.

“Why are you always trying to stay?” Mingi seems honestly baffled. His gaze drops to Yunho’s chest, and he frowns. “Wait.”

Not the usual reaction to his chest, but okay. He waits while Mingi locks a last couple of gears into place with an audible click and levers himself to his feet. He leans over to brush - what, oh, it’s the necklace. His new collar. Mingi runs one finger along the silver chain, still frowning.

Yunho shivers underneath the light touch.

_You were so responsive._

It wasn’t something he ever used to be ashamed of. But that was before that smooth, icy voice set up space in his head. 

“I recognise this. This is my work, but I thought it was for Hades. He told me it was to keep him from feeling the heat when he went to Olympus.”

“I’m too warm. Apparently.” He’s barely breathing as the blacksmith’s finger traces the line of the chain, lifts the links. Yunho knows he’s starved for touch down here, but this is ridiculous. He distracts himself by counting moles; one just above Mingi’s jaw, one above his cheekbone. Two on his shoulder, just above the collarbone, like a pretty little constellation.

“That’s got to be uncomfortable, though. Are you wearing the bracelets, too?” 

Yunho holds out his hands to show him. “They hurt a bit, yeah. The numbness helps, though.”

“Why don’t you take them off?”

“I tried, but they don’t come off for me. Were they set up like that, that he has to be the one to remove them?”

Mingi reaches behind Yunho's neck for the clasp, and with a few brief twists the necklace slithers off into his hand. The relief is so sudden that Yunho bends over to brace himself, hands on thighs. The aching head that’s been riding him since yesterday starts to fade away. Best of all he can feel the sweet, sweet warmth creeping back into his chilled body, like he’s being bathed in sunlight. He doesn’t want to cry, not in front of Mingi, but it’s going to be a close thing.

“Give me your hands.” The roughness is back in Mingi’s voice. When Yunho looks up the anger’s back in his eyes, too. Not at him, though. _For_ him. He holds out his wrists, surprised wordless. As the bracelets come off he shakes the feeling back into his fingers. 

“Can I have them back, though? I’m going to have to put them on again. When I go back through the tunnel.”

“Why would you do that?”

_Because he owns me, six months out of every twelve, and I need to pick my battles. A little discomfort is bearable. There are worse things than a sore head and numb fingers. Having his attention, for one, having him picking away at me with his words night and day._

“Because we made a deal. Hades, he made a deal with me.” Only now he thinks about it, it’s one more shitty bargain he’s agreed to without fully understanding the terms. What, he gets to keep a piece of mail that his family sent to him, in return for weeks of low-level pain? He feels the anger flare again, and fights it down. 

“Oh, that reminds me.” He slides the wooden box out of his satchel. “I was going to offer this anyway, but now I definitely owe you.” He sidesteps the anger and smiles at Mingi as he sets the box down on the bed and opens the lid. “Unlike some people, I don’t mind owing a debt, but I think you’re going to like this.”

“That’s - what are those? Seeds?”

“These are the real flowers that Aphrodite was asking for! Well, not yet they’re not. But they will be.”

Mingi’s brow furrows as he stares at the seeds. “I don’t get it. How do you mean, with Aphrodite?”

“She wanted real flowers on her wedding night, right? Besides, if you want to give her a reason to visit more, this could help. If you plant it right, this garden is going to change all year round. There’ll always be something new to see.”

“And you think Aphrodite will like it.”

“She’ll love it! I think. Pretty sure she will.” She’s a force of nature herself, and it should tickle her sense of humour, an unexpected pocket garden of wildflowers, buried deep below the earth.

Mingi stares at him for a moment. “Okay, tell me honestly. What do you think of this garden, the one I made?” 

_Honestly? If someone made something like this for me, I’d be on that bed so fast my feet wouldn’t touch the floor._

Yunho bites his lip hard to hold back his first response. “It’s beautiful. Really beautiful.” That, he can say. Honestly. 

“Yeah, well, she laughed at it. Not in a bitchy way, I guess it just surprised her.” He’s looking around at his creation with a bemused dislike. “Your opinion on what appeals to her isn’t exactly something I can trust. And I think it’s going to take more than a flower garden to get her to visit me more often.”

He wonders if Aphrodite would make good fertilizer for the new garden, because he really wants to plant her headfirst in the soil right now. Messing around is one thing, he’s been known to get a little messy himself, but it makes no sense to say yes to someone like Mingi and then screw around on him like he’s worth less than nothing to her.

“She must have married you for a reason. There must be something there to build on?” He winces at how that sounds, like there’s no conceivable reason he can see for her to have hitched herself to Mingi, when he can easily think of a handful of reasons he might have caught her eye, now that he’s not fueled solely on anger.

“It’s okay, I know I’m no Adonis. No Ares, either. Or Hermes, or Poseidon, or any of the others. It was only ever a marriage of convenience. Zeus’ bright idea, to stop everyone fighting over her. I just didn’t know that when I made this. He left it up to her to tell me.”

Oh. Suddenly it all makes a lot more sense. When he’s not off fucking around himself, there’s nothing Zeus likes better than to screw around with his children’s love lives. He’s got Zeus whispering in Hades’ ear to thank for his first visit to the Underworld, too. 

“I agreed to it, it’s okay. I actually had to convince her, in the end. She didn’t want to mess me around, just to get Zeus off her back.” 

“But you wish it meant more to her?” He’s on shaky ground here, it’s just that he knows Aphrodite. She can be overwhelming enough in a crowd at a party, above ground. He can only guess at what she’d mean to someone living under a mountain with just one friend he’d built for himself for company. Someone who’d craft a wedding bower like this, with all of the care and creativity he had in his heart, for someone he thought might love him.

“She already told me we wouldn’t work like that, and I’m okay with that. We’re friends. It’s what I agreed to.”

He’s so infuriating. He looks like that, with his whole face and those stupidly cute moles and the pride in his eyes and the beautiful things he makes? And he’s giving up on love because he’s not Ares. He’s not Adonis.

“All it takes is for her to see you. _Really_ see you, not whatever idea she’s got in her head about who you are. And if a flower garden just for her is going to convince her to come down here and take a look, what have you got to lose? Worst case, you’re where you are now except you’ve got two amazing gardens! Best case? She gives the marriage a chance, convenience or not.”

“You’re a real romantic, huh?”

“God of the spring. New beginnings, and all.”

“Remind me how you ended up married to Hades?”

“Oh, let’s not go there. Next year we fix up my marriage, this year let’s get yours sorted.”

“I don’t even know how to garden. I wouldn’t have a clue how to make flowers grow, not real ones.”

“That’s where I come in handy. I just so happen to have the greenest fingers you’ll ever see.” He wiggles them at Mingi. Having circulation back in his fingers… best thing ever. “I’ll help you set up the garden and make sure everything’s growing like it should. All you’d have to do is figure out the sunlight and water. Think you could do that?”

Mingi’s staring at him with that flat look again, the one he has no idea how to read. “You’d set it up?”

“Sure - if you want?”

“And look after it while it was growing?”

“I mean, I don’t have to, I know you like your peace and quiet.” He tries not to mind too much that he’s about to talk himself out of a chance to have his hands in soil on the regular and oh Gaea, shed the cursed jewelry for a few hours now and then. “I can be quiet, though. You’d hardly notice I was here.” Is he giving Mingi his best Sweetheart-puppy-eyes? Oh yeah, he might be. 

Somehow this has stopped being about wanting to help Mingi convince his bride of convenience to give him a chance, and started being about him and what he wants. 

Shameless. And what happens when you want something? Nothing good, fool dog. You end up married to the Dread Lord of the Underworld and trapped under ice for half of each year. And after that, wanting things just gets you in trouble. You’re going to have to sneak out here, over and over again. And if he finds out, your life isn’t going to be worth living.

Mingi isn’t even looking at his puppy eyes. He reaches up to fetch down one of the enamel and glass plum blossoms, and it makes a melodic tinkling in his hand. There are tiny bells at the centre of its petals. “You really think it’s worth trying?”

“I really do. Honestly? I don’t know if she’ll go for it. I know I would, but you’ve already figured out I’m not the best judge when it comes to what’s going to win Aphrodite over. All I know is, it’s always worth trying.” Otherwise we might as well just give in, curl up and surrender to the cold.

Mingi closes the lid on the box of seeds, and he thinks he’s scared him off. Then he looks up at Yunho with an actual smile; faint, just the slightest upturn of his full lips, a glint of something determined in his eyes, and Yunho is momentarily lost in the sight. 

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

  
  



	2. Winter

Mingi’s drawing up a final set of plans for the sunlight regenerator when he slowly becomes aware that Yeosang is in the study, perched still as a statue on the arm of the chair by the fire. He’s good like that. Waits to be needed for something. Never interrupts his work with chatter. Doesn’t pop up in unexpected places, randomly handing out apologies and compliments like candy. 

Isn’t distracting him with a heart-shaped mouth and laughing eyes, looking somehow both hot and messy despite being buttoned up head to toe in an achingly formal suit cut from what looks like funeral cloth.

Mingi does that thing he’s having to do increasingly these days; scoops up the mental image of his unnecessarily tormenting boy-next-door and locks it away in one of the handy compartments in his brain. Begone, Yunho! It’s like magic.

Hilarious how he has to keep doing it, though.

He stares at the drawings unblinking, until his eyes burn and he remembers what he was doing with the bank of reflectors. Slowly at first, he keeps sketching out the workings for the collector underneath until he’s happy he’s captured the basics.

When he stops to stretch, Yeosang moves slightly to get his attention. “You’ve been working all day. Want me to make something to eat?”

Has it been all day? Yeah, must have been. His stomach feels empty and his mouth is dry as dust. He nods. Yeosang drifts around to take a look at the plan sheets.

“That doesn’t look like the reloading hunting bow Apollo’s been waiting on.”

“It’s something for the garden.” He's backlogged with orders for weapons, as usual, but somehow… this is what he’s working on. It’s all his mind will come back to, these days. The garden, and… no, just the garden. That’s all.

“What does it do?”

He blinks up at Yeosang, coming back from a million miles away and a Yunho-shaped compartment in his brain that seems to have a revolving door. “I’m going to collect the sunlight up top and regenerate a fraction of it down here, with a crystal lens.”

“You might want to keep in good with Apollo, then. Seeing as how sunlight’s his thing.”

“I’ll work on his bow tomorrow. I just want to get this started. There’s a lot to do.”

“You’re really invested. In the garden, I mean.”

Mingi can’t explain it to him, can’t even explain it to himself, not without sounding like some kind of sunstruck idiot. It wasn’t even like he was thinking with his dick when he agreed to work on the garden, although if he’s painfully honest, that was a part of it. It’s just something about the way Yunho described the seeds to him, the ridiculous air of _romance_ and possibility that surrounded him when he talked about the flowers they could grow. 

That feeling, the stirring of anticipation - of having something to look forward to, for once - that’s stayed with him. And it keeps bringing him back here to draw up plans; the generator, an irrigation system, raised flower beds he can fit around his existing metal garden without getting it too wet. 

_So yeah, Yeosang, it’s a deadly combination of my hunger for a good dicking and the romantic possibility of flowers._

“It’s something different,” he says. “You know me, all the death machines get boring. This stuff, it’s interesting. It’s a challenge.”

“Oh, so it’s a challenge. Good. I was just making sure, because the last time I saw you this focused, you were making the first garden. You sure you’re not still hoping to win her over with it?”

He almost asks _who_. Another hilarious thing, he’s barely thinking about her these days, which is new. “What, you don’t think my mighty perennials are going to make her fall into my arms?”

“I just don’t like seeing you set yourself up for failure, if it doesn’t work out. Besides, you’ve got an agreement with her. No pressure, you’re just friends. You gave her your word.”

“Yeah, I know.” He finds an unused corner of the plan sheet to add an idea for a secondary lens to diffuse the light if needed.

“Then why - oh.” Yeosang’s taking on that tone he hates, the gentle tone of understanding with a side note of superiority. “This isn’t about her, is it?”

“Shut up.” He says it without any hope that he’s going to be listened to.

“You’re not building the garden for her at all.”

_If I ignore you hard enough, can you just leave it there?_

“You’re building the garden for _him._ ”

Mingi curses as he inadvertently gives the new lens a completely misshapen setting. “Him who?”

“Oh, master, my eyes see all now. Your evil plan to lure a certain tall and handsome spring-like presence back into your underground lair and make your filthy intentions known.”

“I don’t have any intentions! We’ve only just met, there are no intentions. And don’t call me master.”

“I notice you’re not denying the essentials, though. You wanted a reason for him to come back.”

“I’m just being practical. I’m going to kill off anything I try to grow, you know I don’t know how to keep plants alive.”

“And he’s got the magic fingers.”

“Shut up.” Where’s that mental compartment when he needs it? He’s not thinking about Yunho’s fingers. Really not thinking about them at all. 

“What are you going to do when the garden’s finished, when he steps aside for Aphrodite? You know he leaves every spring, right?”

“I know.” He’s going to deal with that, however it hits, when it happens. There’s plenty of winter left, yet. Just under three months. It’s not like he’s attached, anyway, not to someone he’s met a grand total of two times.

And besides, it’s not like he’s ever been lonely. He hears the other gods talk about him that way, _poor Mingi in his underground bunker all alone,_ but he’s always been happy with his own company. He can let his thoughts take their own slow time to turn into designs, and from designs into things - useful things, pretty things, things that make people happy. People at a distance, that is.

The occasional conversation with Yeosang is more than enough to make him feel connected. He used to think he wanted Aphrodite to stay, but all it takes is the way her whirlwind visits leave him itchy for peace and quiet to remind him that maybe he’s not built for being around people. 

It’s just that Yunho, there’s something about him. He seems as full of life and big feelings as Aphrodite in his own way, but with none of the fierce edge that makes Mingi antsy around her. Aphrodite’s an electrical storm, but for all his energy and excitement Yunho’s calm and steady like a spring rain. 

Mingi, you idiot, try saying _that_ to your automaton friend and see what response you get. 

Yeosang’s looking at him with the same tender scorn he mustered over Aphrodite, back in the day. Yeosang, who likes to flirt with Yunho and seems fond of Mingi, but doesn’t entirely understand what it is that makes flesh and blood beings make fools of themselves for each other.

“I have a shopping list for you,” Mingi says, shaking himself internally. “If you’re sure you’re finished giving me shit.”

”Can’t promise I’m done, but hand it over anyway.”

Mingi gives him the list of supplies he’s drawn up for the garden, including sacks of soil and lengths of timber for the new flower beds. He’s got instructions for the Cyclopes brothers working out of his forge on Olympus, who’ll do most of the work crafting the irrigation pipes and calibrating the massive collector he needs to set up on the mountainside. 

“There’s one more thing I want you to get.” Oh, he’s going to get so much mockery for this, but it’s something that’s been pestering him since he thought of it. “Can you look for some sort of change of clothes for him? Just something he can wear to work on the garden, and not have to worry about getting dirty.”

He waits for Yeosang to make some joke about how he wants to play dress-ups with Yunho, but the automaton is just nodding thoughtfully. “It makes sense, if he’s trying to hide things from Hades. He can change when he gets here.”

“It’s those suits,” he says without thinking. “I mean, maybe he likes them, but he always looks so uncomfortable.”

“And you want to get him out of them.” Yes, there it is, Yeosang’s not done yet. He’s biting his lip with that little mocking smile. “Like a good friend.”

“Shut up.”

“Alright, noble master, I’ll get him something a little less form-fitting to garden in. He’s about your size, little bit bigger, I think?”

“Hadn’t noticed,” Mingi mumbles. “Yeah, maybe. Probably.” His mind is now helpfully supplying an image of Yunho in some sort of sheer white shirt, laces at the open neck left loose, doing something in the garden - his brain doesn’t know enough about gardening to fill in _those_ details, but it’s having no trouble whatsoever giving him a picture of Yunho that’s crystal clear enough to make his own clothes feel a little too tight. 

“I’ll head up for supplies after I get you something to eat.” Yeosang collects up all the lists and plans for the Cyclopes. “How long have we got until he’s back?”

“It’ll depend on when he can get away from Hades. He won’t be able to visit much, so I want to have something to show him when he does.” It’s been so long since he’s been excited to show anyone something he’s made. For all that he’s got the rest of the winter, it feels like time’s ticking away on him after all. 

It dawns on him slowly that Yeosang’s still here. He’s not hovering as such - he’s as still as ever - but he’s not leaving. 

He’s not looking at Mingi, but rather at the papers curled in his hand. “I wondered if I can add something to the list, too.”

This is new. Yeosang doesn’t normally feel any need to ask permission, because Mingi always trusts his judgement. “You don’t need to ask, just get it, whatever it is.”

“I just wanted to check first. That dog, Yunho’s dog with all the heads. I thought maybe we could make him a bed somewhere? Nothing fancy, just something to stop him sleeping in the garden.”

Huh. “Any thoughts about where?”

“I thought maybe in the kitchen? There’s plenty of room there, and not a lot he can break. And it means I could keep an eye on him, so he doesn’t wander.” 

Yeosang wants a pet. Mingi adds this to a very long mental note titled ‘Things I’m learning about my own creation’. Patterns of thought, things he wants for himself, none of them wired into him when Mingi first set a spark to the workings inside. Things that are simply Yeosang, gradually becoming himself piece by piece.

“Good idea. Yeah, do it. He’ll probably be glad of the company.”

“Him and me both.”

Yeosang leaves on his errands, and Mingi adds a thoughtful side-note to his note. Yeosang’s lonely. It might be time for him to revisit his shelved plans for the other automata. After the garden, maybe. He’s always got room for something a bit more interesting in between the death machines.

  
  
Fun fact. Compartmentalizing Yunho doesn’t work when he’s standing right in front of Mingi, getting stupidly enthusiastic about the plans for the new garden. 

Right now he’s listening intently, spinning a thin piece of copper tubing back and forth between his fingers while Mingi talks him through the new irrigation system. Mingi’s removed his necklace and bracelets, so getting his sluggish circulation back to normal is part of it, but part of it just seems to be Yunho. It’s how he is, things interest him, they make him happy.

“I should be able to get the lenses and the water working in a few days, if the Cyclopes haul ass. And we should get the soil in next week, if you can make it back.”

“I’ll try. I really want to be here to help plant the seeds. Just in case I can’t, though, I’ve made you a planting schedule to follow.” He pulls a stack of dog-eared pages from his satchel and waves them at Mingi. “Once the first flowers come up I’ll be gone anyway, and you’ll want to know what to plant through the spring and summer as things come and go.”

He lays the pages out along the bed, rearranges them to his liking and turns to Mingi with a smile. Mingi, who’s still processing _I’ll be gone_ like it didn’t hit him with an unexpected little sting. He glances down at the papers to distract himself from his stupid thoughts.

“Your writing.” How honest can he be, mother of Titans, what _is_ that? “The scholars of Alexandria couldn’t read your writing. Did you do this with your toes? Because it looks like you did.”

There are diagrams all over the pages dotted with arrows and drawings, and next to them, possibly the worst handwriting he’s ever seen. He’s getting a headache just looking at it.

“I want to change it now anyway, now I’ve seen what you’ve got planned.” He wheels around looking at it all, still with that broad grin. “It’s beautiful. I mean, it’s already beautiful, but we’re going to make it so pretty you’re going to cry big tears of joy. And you don’t seem like much of a crier, so I’m making this my personal mission.”

“You want to make me cry, now?” Oh, the thoughts running through his head now, uninvited. Unhelpful. Unnecessary.

Yunho tilts his head, considering him. “You know, that face used to scare me. The way you look right now, all brooding and mysterious. But I’m going to figure out what it means, when you look like that.”

 _I sure as shit hope not_. The last thing Yunho needs on top of his trainwreck of a marriage to the cold-blooded lizard lord is Mingi crushing on him like some horny idiot. “I’m thinking deep thoughts. Inventor thoughts.”

“Uhuh. I’m sure that’s it.” He gathers up his papers and seats himself cross-legged on the ground, pen out. “Tell me what goes where, again?”

Mingi has to take a moment to pull his thoughts together. Usually the inventions go straight from his brain to his hands, and that’s it. He doesn’t have words for half this stuff, it’s all moving pictures in his mind. It slots together with perfect precision in his head, but when he tries to talk about it, things jumble up. He’s used to hashing things out with the Cyclopes, but they’ve worked together so long they’ve got a kind of verbal short-hand.

With Yunho, he has to find new ways to describe everything. He sketches while Mingi talks, quick to catch on despite the way Mingi’s butchering the explanation. He’s so excited for this garden. That’s what Mingi’s starting to see, the way it fires him up so that his ideas for it are coming faster than his words can keep up. That distant look on his face, now; he’s already sitting in that imaginary future garden, seeing it in his mind’s eye. Inventor face. Mingi knows it well, just never saw what it looks like from the other side. 

“I wish you could see it, when it blooms.” He glances around the room, at the beginnings of planter boxes, trying to guess at what Yunho’s seeing. “I can draw it, maybe.” He’s a good enough draughtsman to be able to capture the line and form, but all the colours? The scents? That’s where the way to Yunho’s heart lies, the way he’s talking. Not a chance he can catch that on paper. 

Of course, Yunho might choose to come back and visit in the spring, when he’s free from Hades. Visit the garden, that is. Come see the flowers. Yeah, he slams the lid back on _that_ box fast. If Mingi was married to the lizard lord, he’d stay as far away from him as he could, at all times.

Yunho shakes himself awake, back to the here and now. “I wish I could see it too. Truth is, though, I get pretty homesick over winter, so you’ll just have to love it enough for both of us.” His eyebrow lifts playfully. “Well, you and Aphrodite. Hopefully.”

He wants to tell him. He _should_ tell him. There’s no ‘me and Aphrodite’ and there’s never going to be. He made a promise not to push for more, and while that was hard at the start, he’s kept to it. Yunho’s romantic idea that she’ll change her mind over, what, a few flowers? Over seeing him for what he really is, whatever that means? Sweet as fuck but totally misguided.

On the other hand, what’s he going to say? It’s okay, I don’t really care anymore because if someone’s gonna screw my brains out in this garden I’d rather it was you than her, anyway? 

His mouth is open to say something - about his agreement with Aphrodite, not the other thing - when Yunho’s head lifts and he sniffs the air like a wolf scenting prey. His eyes meet Mingi’s, on full alert. Moments later Yeosang comes in with a tray of food, followed by the huge ungainly shape of Yunho’s dog padding after him. 

“I thought you might need something to eat, about now.”

He sets the tray down on the bedside table, and Mingi realises with a start how hungry he is. He helps himself to a plate of fried banana pancakes, pouring on honey and nuts. Yunho doesn’t make a move towards the other plate, though his eyes stay fixed on the stack of pancakes.

“I’m sorry,” says Yeosang. “This is Mingi’s favourite breakfast, I thought you might like some as well. I can make something else, if you like?”

“I would literally mud wrestle Cerberus to have some,” he says, watching the honey drop down the side of Mingi’s spoon with an almost scientific level of interest. “I just can’t. I can’t eat down here. You probably heard about the pomegranate seeds, the reason I’m still stuck here?”

It’s gossip even Mingi knows, how Hades seduced the god of spring into leaving everything behind for the Underworld. How his mother Demeter argued for his return, but he’d swallowed a handful of pomegranate seeds and Hades owned him for six months of every year. The story hits different now that it’s not just gossip, it’s an actual person, and that person is Yunho. All dressed up in his starchy black funeral suit, staring at a stack of pancakes like they’re the one thing that’s always been missing from his life.

Mingi puts his plate down, guiltily. “The deal’s done, though. Hades and Demeter have an agreement. Why can’t you eat?”

“According to him, if I eat anything else in the Underworld it’ll override the agreement and he’s got me for the rest of the year, too. Would you take that risk? It’s just a pancake.” His gaze lingers on the food for a moment, before he sighs with his whole body and looks away.

This, at least, Mingi can help him with. “You’re not even in the Underworld right now, though. Hades has no legal rights here, so you should be okay to eat whatever you want. The moment you come through that tunnel, you’re not in the Twilight Realm.” He’s just made it worse somehow; Yunho’s looking at him, wide-eyed. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re not in the Underworld. Mingi, I was so fucking fixated on that flower, I forgot.” He’s speaking very carefully, as if to ward off panic. “If I leave the Underworld during winter, he’s got me. He’s got me for good. I can’t leave, it’s one of the rules.” Cerberus comes over to lean on him, whining. One arm goes up around the dog, petting him reassuringly.

Yeosang glances at Mingi. He can almost see the cogs in the automaton’s brain whirring. “What are the exact words, do you know? Do you remember?”

Yunho closes his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face. “During the months of autumn and winter, I can’t… what, how does it go. I can’t cross the Styx, nor can I return to Mount Olympus by other means.”

“Then you’re alright. You haven’t done either. We’re under Aetna, nowhere near Olympus, and the Styx is in a different direction entirely. You haven’t even crossed under it.” Yeosang’s voice is absolutely certain.

Mingi wants to drop down to sit next to Yunho, but his leg won’t go for it. He sits on the edge of the bed instead. “You can trust Yeosang on this. This is what he does instead of sleeping,” he says. “Stays up memorizing law, amongst other things. He says it’s to stop me being cheated on contracts, but I think he just likes winning arguments.” He’s talking to distract Yunho from his thoughts, as much as anything. Yeosang knows what he’s talking about. If he says Yunho’s safe, he’s safe.

Yunho looks up at him. Lizard lord jokes aside, Mingi has always hated Hades, but never quite as much as he does right now, watching hope chase the old echoes of fear on Yunho’s face. A white-hot anger settles in, somewhere deep inside. 

“You can stay as long as you like, and you’re not breaking the rules,” he says softly. He doesn’t want to make things worse. “But if you want to go back now, I’ve got the planting schedule. I’ll figure it out.”

He wants to reach out, maybe put a hand on Yunho’s shoulder or whatever it is people do at times like this, just to let him know he’s not alone with it all. It’s probably the last thing he needs right now though, someone getting all handsy in his personal space; Mingi’s never been any good with figuring out how and when it’s okay to do things like that. 

Besides, it won’t change the basic fact that Yunho _is_ alone with this. Beyond getting that unholy jewelry off him now and then, there’s not a lot Mingi can do for him.

Yunho’s shoulders rise and fall with a sharp, decisive breath. The smile’s already starting to come back to his eyes; it never seems to go far for long. “It’s okay. I trust you. I trust both of you. As long as he can’t stop me going home in spring, we’re good.” There’s a steady determination on his face. “I’m going to get myself out of this one day, Mingi. There’ll be a way. Some trade I can make. There has to be.”

“If you can get a copy of the agreement, bring it over with you next time,” says Yeosang. “I’ll see if I can find anything that might help.”

“I’d like that. Thanks.” One of Cerberus’ heads, the smart-looking one with the golden eyes, twists round to lick at Yunho’s face. He pushes him away fondly. “I do know, though, the wording about food is pretty clear. I can’t eat in the Underworld. And if you’re right, I’m not in the Underworld right now.” 

Wordlessly, Mingi offers his full plate. Yunho solemnly takes the top pancake, rolls it up like a little carpet and stuffs half of it into his mouth. He makes a muffled noise that might be an apology or an incoherent noise of happiness, then falls onto his back, spreadeagled, chewing blissfully.

When he’s finally swallowed his enormous mouthful of pancake, his voice trails up faintly. “Can I kiss you right now, Yeosang? Because I may have to kiss you. Is that okay, or would that be too weird? I don’t know automaton etiquette.”

Yeosang holds up one hand. “An automaton’s first kiss is a sacred bond. Not to be shared lightly.” 

Mingi’s pretty sure this is just Yeosang’s usual line of bullshit until he sees his expression, which is serene but leaves no room to doubt his sincerity. One more thing to add to his list of unknowns, by the looks of it.

“Don’t get too close to Cerberus, then. He’s an almighty dog for kissing if you get your face too close to his. Seriously, he will rust you with the strength of his attentions.”

He sits up to eat, and Mingi looks away the dangerous combination of round cheeks full of pancake and lips shiny with honey. He has too many feelings right now, feelings wrapped around troublesome thoughts and tied with a big, black funeral bow made of trouble.

“I have to stick around for a bit, anyway.” Yunho’s helping himself to his own plate of pancakes, dropping an avalanche of nuts into a pool of honey with focused glee. “You can’t read my writing, so I have to talk you through the planting. And who’s going to teach you the songs to sing to the plants, if I’m not here?”

“You’re making that up.” Surely. He is not singing to plants. Not to _plants_.

“On my godly honour, it’s true. Or maybe swearing on your godly honour is better. Mine’s not exactly spotless.” He swipes at the honey beside his mouth and sucks it off his thumb afterwards, and Mingi looks away hurriedly because that is not something he needs to see right now. Yunho’s going to give him whiplash, at this rate. He’d ask Yeosang not to feed him any more, but he’s not quite that heartless. He’s just going to have to endure.

“What kind of music do plants even like?”

“They’re like lullabies, but the opposite? They wake them up.” He laughs at the look on Mingi’s face. “Ah, shut up. You wait till you’re up in the middle of the night singing to reluctant little baby flowers. It’ll happen.”

“Maybe I can just put the gramophone on for them. I don’t mind listening to a record or two with the sprouts.” That actually sounds like it might be weirdly relaxing, lying on the bed, listening to an operetta with the plants while they get their spring growth on. Or maybe they’d be more into something orchestral and dramatic with lots of strings and percussion? His collection works both ways. “I can light the lamps, and we can all just chill out together.”

“Singing to them is best. I’m actually sorry I won’t be here. Singing to them with all the lamps lit...” He looks around him, and his smile’s edged with regret. “To be honest, it probably has to be my voice for it to work, too. Unless you’ve got any nymphs you want to invite over.”

His eyes are alight with a spark of mischief, like the thought of Mingi hanging out with nymphs delights him, Mingi and his supposedly squeaky-clean honour. Like he’s been hiding away down here under Aetna waiting on his first kiss, just him and Yeosang. _Poor Mingi, too cranky and shy for nymphs and still pining for Aphrodite._

Which means that he’s managed to keep the worst of his honey-inspired horniness from showing, so that’s something. Also, that Yunho probably hasn’t heard about the years Mingi spent working his way cross-country on Dionysus’ steam train, engineering for him and his crew of maenads and satyrs, either.

“You’ve gone all brooding on me, again. What’s on your mind?” Soft and teasing Yunho is officially the worst Yunho.

“I told you. Inventor thoughts.” No, but the gramophone though, it actually has got him thinking. Focus, Mingi, snap out of that irrelevant shit. There’s an idea there to be had. “What if you could be here? Your voice, anyway.”

“How do you mean?”

“I can record you. I’ve got all the machinery - Artemis went through a torch singer phase, don’t ask. The point is, I can record your voice and play it back to the seeds.” 

“You could record me singing.” The light’s dawning on his face, and he looks utterly delighted. “Mingi?”

 _You could kiss me? You have to kiss me right now?_ He waits with equal parts hope and skepticism for the end of the sentence. _Come on, you offered to kiss Yeosang and that was just for pancakes._

“Can you set it up today, do you have time? Can we do it now? Can I take pancakes with me?”

“Uh, sure.” He’s not at all disappointed, not kicking himself internally for wanting more. Not wishing he was an automaton right now so at least he’d get hit on. “Yes, yes and no, no pancakes, they stay here.” 

Yunho shrugs and stuffs the last of his pancakes into his mouth with a sticky grin. He pats Mingi’s shoulder - _good job, metal friend!_ \- and gestures for him to lead the way to the workshop. 

It takes another couple of weeks for Yunho to come back through the tunnel, long enough for Mingi to suspect that maybe he’s not coming back at all. 

He’s got no idea what kind of asshole Hades turns into behind closed doors, just that spending six months out of every twelve with him is enough to have Yunho running scared of breaking their agreement. Demeter’s canny enough to have safeguarded him against the more obvious forms of asshole behaviour, but the lizard lord’s always been the master of a subtle, under-the-table kind of nastiness. The last thing Mingi wants is for this stupidly hopeful and dick-inspired garden project to mean a life sentence for Yunho. 

So he doesn’t really know whether to be happy or sad when Yunho finally shows up. Except yeah, he does. He’s happy. For better or worse, he’s happy.

By then, he’s got the soil ready to fill the new flower beds, the irrigation system is in place and he’s run a successful test on the lenses. Long extra hours spent inlaying a portrait of Apollo onto his hunting bow means they’re probably good for a supply of winter sun when they need it.

He offers Yunho the set of clothes Yeosang’s bought for gardening, a pair of dark canvas trousers and a cambric shirt. Yeosang’s little joke about getting Yunho out of his suit plays in his head, but Mingi can tell he’s genuinely glad of the offer. When he comes out of Mingi’s dressing room he’s not the hazy, soft-focus sheer-shirted vision of his dreams, he’s just Yunho, moving like he’s comfortable with himself for a change. Loose-limbed, relaxed, and so happy to be planting the seeds at last that he’s glowing with it. No wonder he wants to go home, if this is what he looks like when he gets to shed the Underworld.

Yeosang brings them food, and then they get started shoveling earth into the garden. It’s hot, sweaty work that doesn’t leave much room for conversation, even if Mingi was inclined to talk. As it is, he gets into the rhythm of shovel dirt, dump it, level it off and finds himself drifting away into designing a slow-rotating canopy lamp for the bed that can display the season’s constellations.

When they’re finished, he notices Yunho staring up at the crystal lenses he’s rigged, a series of polished discs hanging on retractable arms above the garden. 

He flips the lever to show him how it works and the generator kicks in with a low purring rumble. The sunlight gathers and pours through the lenses onto the garden, turning the soil a rich golden brown. 

Yunho holds his hands in the light like he’s running them under water. “It’s so _warm_. Do you know how long it’s been since I felt daylight, even second-hand?” He turns his face into it and it tints his skin a faint red-gold, picks out the brown in his eyes and the sweep of his eyelashes like he’s standing in the late afternoon sun. “I’m gonna have to try it out. You know, for science. For the plants.” 

He jumps up onto one of the flower beds, neat as a cat, and throws himself down on the earth in the pool of sunlight. Mingi has to watch the painful sight of Yunho arching his back, wriggling his hips side to side and settling himself into position, stretched out under the light.

“If you don’t want me to keep visiting, you need to stop giving me all the things I need most in one convenient place, just saying. Flowers. Sunshine. Pancakes.” His eyes are closed, face upturned and blissed out. “If we weren’t both married to other people, I’d be proposing right now.”

_So you offer Yeosang a kiss, and all I get is a non-proposal, seriously? Giving you the actual sun doesn’t even cut it?_

“Get off your ass. There’s seeds need planting.” Mingi takes one last look at the impossible shape of temptation and flips the generator back off without mercy. The circle of sunlight shrinks to a pinprick and vanishes. Yunho shoots him a look like he’s just kicked Cerberus, before rolling to his feet in one fluid motion.

They work through the afternoon, until Yunho’s satisfied all of the seeds are in the best places for them to grow well. Turns out planting seeds is easy, but getting them in the right place and at the right depth is hard. It’s as much science as instinct, and every time he thinks he’s getting his head around one of the rules, Yunho’s magic plant fingers tell him something different.

When they finally finish up, he’s filthy and sore. His leg’s seizing up from all the work down at ground level and he’s pretty sure he can hear dirt grinding away in some of the gears. Yunho’s not in much better shape, new clothes coated in dirt, hands and arms covered in it from where he’s been encouraging the seeds to bed in by lying down alongside them and chatting to them. If Mingi was on his own, he’d take a long bath about now. 

Your bathing pools take up a whole room, there’s plenty of space, whispers a voice in the back of his head. A nice friend would make the offer.

_Am I a nice friend? Because I don’t feel like a very nice friend, the thoughts in my head right now._

“If you want to clean up before you head back,” he finds himself saying, “There are hot baths.”

Yunho squints at him thoughtfully. “Are you sure? Your face is doing that thing again. Have I overstayed my welcome? You’re going to have to help me out here, give me a clue.”

“Look, I know I’m not good with people, with saying what I mean. Or sounding like I mean it.” Yeah, that’s an understatement. “But the offer’s genuine. If you can. If you want. Stay.” 

He’s rewarded by the sight of Yunho lighting up like he’s back under the sun lens. “Thank you. Yeah, in that case, a hot bath would be amazing.”

Mingi’s bathroom is tiled in shades of green, highlighted here and there with gold. A dark, dappled hydra stretches its sinuous necks across the far wall, but it’s hard to make out now through the drifting clouds of steam. He keeps the various baths at different temperatures with a heating system based around the molten core of the volcano, but the largest central pool is only just warm, the way he likes it. 

Yunho crouches down beside one of the smaller baths, the one he keeps at the highest temperature. It’s a squat little tub, connected up to the plumbing with a series of copper pipes.

“It has paws.” For some reason this seems to delight him.

“It’s modeled off the Nemean Lion.”

“My bath has paws, too. Well, my Underworld bath. At the mansion.”

“The plumbing there is mine. I designed it, anyway.”

“You made my bath?” He laughs softly, leaning back against the tub. “That’s perfect. I shouldn’t be surprised. My one happy place in all of the Twilight Realm, and you made it.”

He doesn’t know what to do with that; not the fact that Yunho only has one happy place in the land he spends half his life in, and definitely not the friendly warmth in his eyes right now. Affection, admiration, whatever it is. It seizes him up inside like the grit in the gears of his leg, shuts him down so that all he can do is turn away, take a seat on the side of one of the baths and start to unlock the brace so it doesn’t get wet.

Normally he wouldn’t bother with clothes in here, but that’s obviously not an option now, so when he’s unstrapped his leg from the brace he just ends up wading into the biggest pool, muddy clothing and all. The filters can take care of the dirt later. The lukewarm water feels so good against his overheated skin. He lies back against the tiled wall, elbows up on the side of the pool, water almost to his chin.

Yunho follows him in, ducking all the way underwater and surfacing to sweep the water back out of his hair with a grin. “Oh, that’s good.” He looks down, scrubs at the ingrained dirt all over the front of the shirt. “I’m just making this worse.” He starts to lift it off, stops dead part-way and pulls it back down. “Sorry, is this okay? Do you mind?”

Breathing is overrated anyway. He nods, not trusting his voice.

Yunho strips off the shirt and tosses it onto the side of the pool. Through the drifting veil of steam, his wet skin catches the lamplight as he scrapes at the mud on his hands and arms. “There’s soap in the shell on the side.” Mingi sinks his head back against the side of the pool and shuts his eyes. He hears rather than sees Yunho make his way over to lie against the poolside nearby. 

“Did you ever show your baths to Aphrodite?” His voice is lazy, like the water’s putting him to sleep. “I know she was an idiot about your garden, but this, I think she’d like this. She’s got a thing for water.”

Mingi opens his eyes, catches a brief glimpse of Yunho’s broad shoulders and the flat planes of his chest through the pale green ripples on the water and lets his eyes fall shut again. Nope. “She never stayed long enough to need a bath.”

“If you’re looking for reasons for her to visit for longer, it might help if she knows you’ve got a private bath house.”

“I’m not.” He says it before he can stop himself, sick of being dishonest about it. Or not fully honest, anyway. “Looking for reasons for her to stay longer, I mean. I’m not.”

“What do you mean? I thought - wasn’t that what the garden’s for?” 

Yeah, Mingi, wasn’t that what the garden was for? It’s like he’s watching himself from a distance all of a sudden, wondering how far this dangerous outbreak of honesty is going to take him. 

“The first garden, yeah. I spent weeks on it, like an idiot, just because Zeus said she wanted to marry me. That should have set off the alarm bells, huh. Hearing it from Zeus.”

He needs to call it now; speak up or keep hiding this away, whatever it is. This whole big clumsy knot of how he feels, what he wants. If he keeps his eyes shut he’s basically just thinking aloud, just talking to the tile hydra on the wall. 

“She said I was special, just not her kind of special. Which I figured back then was just a half-assed way of saying I wasn’t good enough for her, but lately, I get it. She’s incredible, I know she is. She probably makes Ares and Adonis and all those others turn fucking cartwheels, they’re so happy. But you know what? She’s not my kind of special either.” 

His heart rate is going wild as he makes himself open his eyes. Yunho’s watching him with an intensity that almost stops him dead. “It’s just that lately, I get that,” he says, trailing off. 

It feels a lot like that day he showed Aphrodite the garden, right now. Like he might as well be naked, because everything he normally tries to protect is right out there begging to be kicked. It’s not a comfortable feeling.

“And there’s that face I know so well,” says Yunho softly. “Like you’re some sort of remote outpost all alone at the end of the world. I’ve got a fair guess now, what it means. But if I’m wrong, just tell me to stop, okay?”

Yunho moves a little closer, until Mingi can feel the heat between the two of them. The closeness of their faces. Yunho’s mouth, so close he could reach out and trace the heart shape of his lips.

“You’ve given me so many of the things I miss, down here. Green things growing, sunlight. Food. What I probably miss most, though, is touch. Touching people. Being touched.” His voice is husky, and for once his smile is ever so slightly unsure. “I’d really like it if you’d touch me. If you want to, and if I’m not getting this so completely wrong right now.”

_And if I do that, how’s it going to feel when you have to leave? When you’re gone for half a year - maybe gone for good?_

He does it anyway. He’s an idiot like that. 

Yunho’s cheek is smooth and damp and so warm when he cups it with one palm, leaning forwards to bring their mouths together gently, just a soft brush of lips meeting for a first taste. He’s hesitant, taking it slow because it’s been a while since he got this close to anyone, and he doesn’t want to rush this. 

He can feel Yunho smile under his lips, meeting his gentle kisses with a tenderness of his own, nuzzling at his nose and rubbing his cheek along Mingi’s palm. He’s not hurrying him, seeming content to let Mingi set the pace. He’s shivering a little under Mingi’s touch, and it feels good that he’s not the only one being affected by this.

“Your hands are so warm,” Yunho murmurs into his mouth. “How are you doing that?”

“God of the forge. Don’t know much, but I do know heat. Heat, and friction.” His fingers trail down Yunho's damp skin, leaving a momentary glow of warm gold that reflects in the water. 

Mingi tangles one hand in the wet cloth at Yunho’s hip and pulls him a little closer, kissing him a little more insistently. He wonders what he’ll taste like, the god of spring, and slides his tongue between his softly parted lips to explore. When Yunho moans sweetly into his mouth, that’s all it takes for him to forget about taking it slow. 

He swings them both around to the sound of Yunho’s surprised laughter, which he stops with another insistent kiss. He’s leaning his weight right along Yunho’s body now, pressing him back against the side of the bath. His leg’s a little awkward but the water helps. Yunho’s hands slide down his back and around his ass, holding him up, holding him there. He feels so good underneath him, solid and warm and Mingi can feel the press of his semi-hard cock where they’re leaning together. He grinds up against him just to hear him make that noise again, half moan and half wordless approval. 

Mingi slides a hand down to palm Yunho through his trousers, letting him feel the friction he can bring to bear, rubbing against him with a slow, lazy stroke. He can feel the heat building beneath the heel of his hand, feel Yunho getting harder in response. His cock feels so thick and heavy already and it’s driving Mingi insane wondering what it would feel like inside him, if they get that far.

As Yunho’s hips kick up, pressing into his hand, Mingi dips his head to kiss along the column of his throat. He closes his teeth over the soft join of neck and shoulders and sucks the skin there, just firmly enough to be felt, to be known, careful not to leave a mark. There’s just enough of him left to think about caution and the lizard lord waiting for Yunho at the end of all of this, when all he wants to do is let go and mark his skin, disappear into the way Yunho feels, how he sounds, the sight of him coming undone already under his mouth and hands. 

And maybe he’s not the only one haunted by bad thoughts and worse timing. It’s slowly filtering in, slowly getting through the haze of heat and happiness he’s feeling, that something is wrong. Yunho’s pushing against his chest, pushing him away. 

“Mingi, I need to stop. I can’t do this, wait.” He’s breathing unevenly, lips still flushed from kissing. “The last thing I want to do is stop, swear to Gaea. Your hand alone is going to make me come, I’m so sorry. Please, can we stop.” 

Mingi uncurls his fingers and Yunho rocks helplessly back against his hand, body still chasing the heat. Mingi takes one step back, and then another. He’s trying to pay attention to what Yunho’s saying, but there’s a confusing mix of signals going on. “I’m sorry,” he says. Unsure if it’s something he did, or regrets kicking in, or something else he’s not getting.

“It’s not you, you’re so perfect. You’re so, so beautiful, Mingi. I want to do this, I thought I could do this, it’s just.” Yunho wraps his arms around himself, shivering. “He’s in my head, and I don’t want him here, not for this. Not with you.” He moves like he wants to reach out to Mingi, but he’s stopping himself. “Please tell me you understand. I need to get free of him first.”

Mingi’s head is a swirling cloud of heat and want and need, fear he’s done the wrong thing, worry for Yunho and the sweet-salt taste of him still on his tongue. It takes him a moment to get his words together enough to answer.

“Hades is the last person I’d ever want in my head, and Olympus is packed with contenders for asshole of the year. I get it.” 

Yunho breathes out, shakily. “Thank you. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, started anything. You’re so gorgeous, and I get so happy being here, I just wanted… I’m sorry, I’m an idiot.”

“You’re going to get free of this. You know that, right? There’ll be a way out. You’ll find it, or Yeosang will find something.” He clears his throat, knowing there’s more he should say, if he wants to keep going with this honesty shit. He’s so bad with people and this probably isn’t the right time but it feels like it would be a mistake to leave this unsaid, just rattling around in his head. “And when you’re free of him, maybe… can we try this again?” _Just say it, coward._ “Because I like you a lot.”

Yunho makes a wounded noise and closes the gap between them. His mouth finds Mingi’s again and there’s a desperation in his kiss, like he’s already halfway back into the Twilight Realm, lost in the cold and the fog. Mingi strokes the side of his face, fingers trailing warmth and light. “Also,” he adds, closing his eyes for courage, “I really want you to fuck me. So that’s something we could try, maybe. One day, when you’re free.”

“Mingi, my resolve right now…” Yunho laughs, shakily. “It’s so thin. You can’t say things like that. Looking like that.” He slips his arms around Mingi’s waist and pulls him close. “Yes, sweet Gaea, the answer’s yes. I'd very much like to fuck you in these baths, on your workshop bench, on the bed in your garden, really, anywhere is good.”

“Our garden.”

“ _Our_ garden. Okay. Yes.”

It’s the bare need still hot in Yunho’s eyes that gives him the strength to back away this time. If it matters so much, like it already seems to matter to him, then they’ll find their way back here again. He’s got to believe that. 

“You’d better get back.” He hopes Yunho knows him well enough now to know that it’s not a dismissal, just the sound of the last of his self-control about to unravel like a frayed wire. 

He wades to the edge and hauls himself out of the pool, not wanting to watch as Yunho does the same behind him. He’s dried himself off, changed into clean clothes and is sitting on the edge of the lion paw bath strapping on his brace when Yunho comes back from the dressing room, buttoned up tight in his formal funeral suit once more. He looks about a million miles away from the man Mingi watched lie down in a dirt bed earlier today so that he could talk to seeds.

Mingi gets to his feet to see him off, not quite knowing what to do with his hands, let alone his stupid, unhappy face. Yunho pulls him into a gentle hug. The suit feels scratchy and uncomfortably stiff against his cheek. 

“Will you be able to come back?”

“I don’t know.” He shifts restlessly in Mingi’s arms, holds him more tightly for a moment. “Probably not. Not till next year. Not unless I can get out for good.” When he pulls away, there’s a shine in his eyes. “Good luck with everything, though. Don’t be afraid to sing to them, the sprouts. I think they’d like that.”

“Yunho,” he says, and there’s so much he wants to say loaded into that one word. 

“Can you put these back on for me?” Yunho holds out the necklace and bracelets. 

As he does up the skeletal clasp, Mingi leans in to press his lips against the hollow of Yunho’s throat and just breathe in the sweet smell of his skin one more time. He lets the warmth of the fire in his touch chase away the chill of the jewelry, keeping it at bay as long as he can, one hand looped around each wrist, face buried against Yunho’s neck.

As he walks Yunho back to the entry to the tunnel, he collects the little side project he’s been working on from his workshop along the way. He’s not looking at the benches at all, definitely not thinking about what Yunho said, not at all planning to clear a space free of junk and tools and sand down splinters. Just to be ready, in case. 

They stop off at the kitchen and Yeosang comes to say goodbye too, Cerberus trotting at his heels. Mingi unwraps the bundle he’s carrying as they walk. It feels like maybe he’s overstepping here, with this gift. Yunho wants him, he gets that, that feels real enough. But this is something different. Friendship. Another kind of intimacy, a whole lot scarier, and maybe not as welcome.

“Before you go, I made something for you. You don’t have to take it, if it’s not safe to have it.” At least he’s given him an out.

He passes over the tiny brass-backed mirror, small enough to fit neatly into the palm of Yunho’s hand. The mirror’s round brass frame is engraved on the back with a pattern of flowers; sweetpeas, cherry blossoms, a single rose. Mingi holds up a second mirror.

“If you want, though, we can use these to talk while you’re away. I can show you the garden, when the flowers come up.” 

It sounds so childish now that he’s saying it out loud, like somehow in his head they’re two kids signaling to each other in secret codes from hilltops. He can feel the tension winding back into his muscles, like he’s closing back in on himself, some sort of unwanted gadget being folded up to be stored away in its dark cupboard.

It’s the look on Yunho’s face that pulls him back out of his head again. Typically, despite what he’s got waiting on the other side of the tunnel, the mirror fascinates him. He turns it in his hand, taps on it, trying to figure it out. “How does it work?”

“Either one of us can let the other know if we want to talk. Just look for the rose on the back, hold your finger on it until it heats up. The other one’ll warm up.”

He fires his mirror up and after a moment, there’s Yunho’s face staring back at him, close up and distorted and tarnished a silvery grey by the glass, but yeah. It works. Yunho leans in, one dark enormous eye filling the mirror. “Can you hear through it, too?”

“It’s not the clearest, but yeah, you can.”

“So we can talk? And I can sing to the sprouts! You can play the recording and I can duet with myself. You’re amazing.” He tucks the mirror into the inside of his waistcoat. His smile is so warm and unbreakable that it just about takes Mingi’s breath away. 

“It’s probably safer if I wait for you to call me,” he says. “I mean, I won’t be waiting, don’t feel like you have to call. Just, I don’t want to make things worse.”

“You could never make things worse.” Yunho glances briefly at Yeosang, then steps forward to kiss Mingi full on the mouth. He can feel the cold rising off the necklace in the chill of his lips, see it in the pallor of his face.

“I’ll keep looking through that agreement,” says Yeosang. “Hades is cocky as hell. He’ll have missed something, and I’ll find it.”

“Thanks. Both of you, thank you.” Yunho taps on his light box and steps into the mouth of the tunnel. Cerberus bats against Yeosang’s chest with all three heads in turn, then follows Yunho off down the tunnel, tail low between his legs, whining unhappily.

_Yeah, you and me both, boy._

Yeosang’s attention lights on him, and he waits patiently for the shit to start. The ridiculous spy-gadget mirrors. The way he was babbling everything that came into his head, like an idiot. The kiss.

Instead, the automaton’s golden hand closes softly on his shoulder. “I meant what I said. There’ll be something there we can use, to get him out. Demeter’s smarter than Hades by a long shot. She’ll have worked in some loopholes, we just need to find them.”

He nods, not wanting to discuss it, not really wanting to talk about anything at all right now. His hands are itching to make something; even one of the backlog of death machines sounds peachy, the way he’s feeling. The mirror goes into one of the pockets along his hip, where he knows he’ll feel it if it heats up. 

Even if he’s not waiting.

________________________

Yunho’s almost through the tunnel, fingers still pressed up against his mouth like he’s trying to keep the feeling of that last kiss stuck there as long as he can, when he realises that Cerberus is no longer following him. He turns, holding up the light box. The dog’s still there, behind him, but he’s stopped dead. The grumbling whine that he’s been making since he left Yeosang is becoming more of a yapping three-part growl.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

_This is not a talking dog, Yunho._

He pats his leg. “Come on, we’ve got to go back. I’m not happy about it, either.” He’d rather be back under Aetna taking Mingi up on his mind-melting offer than anything else he can think of - fucking him over his workbench, he’s only got himself to blame for _that_ mental image - but hey. There’s always next year. He touches his mouth again, chasing the ghost of the kiss. “Come on, buddy.”

Cerberus presses himself back against the wall of the tunnel, and Yunho shrugs. He’ll follow when he’s ready.

It’s only when Yunho hauls himself out of the hole in the ground that he finds out what Cerberus was trying to tell him, a warning about what's waiting for him on the other side.

“Hello, flower boy. Been spreading yourself a little thin, lately?” 

Just beyond the mountain of dirt, Hades is seated neat and unlikely on one of their dining room chairs, looking like he’s at a tea party. A horse the colour of watery milk waits patiently behind him, flicking her tail at the cloud of spirits clustering nearby. 

Hades uncrosses his legs and rises from the chair. He twirls one gloved hand lazily at the hole in the ground and Yunho turns to see the hill of earth rumbling into the mouth of the tunnel behind him. He scrambles back down to scrape at the earth with his bare hands.

“Cerberus! Your _dog_ is in there, under that! Fuck it, Hades!”

He can’t hear anything, no scrabbling, no barking. There’s no movement, beyond the faint cloud of fine dirt hanging over the newly buried hole. The fog swirls around them, shades sweeping in to investigate the new landscape.

“He knows better than to dig holes.” Hades is indifferent. “Just like you know better than to follow them.”

“Cerberus!” He’s on his hands and knees on the mound of earth, listening as hard as he can. There’s nothing. He might have made it back into the tunnel, if any of the tunnel’s still there. Made it back to Aetna, and safety.

Hades shrugs. “He’ll be fine. Or he won’t. So let’s talk about you. Are you fine, Yunho? How are you doing?”

Fury makes him throw caution aside. “You just buried Cerberus! How do you think I am?”

“I think you’re going to wish you were under there with him, when we’re done.”

“Oh, get over yourself. This dread lord of the dead bullshit… just say what you want to say.” His heart’s thumping wildly and he can feel his hands shaking but if he backs down, he’s giving Hades a license to walk all over him. Again. “I didn’t break the agreement. You don’t give a fuck if I sleep around. You’ve still got me six months of the year and I’m wearing your jewelry, just like you want. So where’s the problem?”

“The problem is, he makes you happy. He _insulates_ you.” No need to ask who. He knows exactly where Yunho’s been and who he’s been with. “I’d been wondering why you looked like that lately. You might as well not be wearing that necklace at all.”

Yunho gets slowly to his feet. He’s not going to be able to shift enough dirt, not with his hands. Anyway, Cerberus is a better digger than him, any day. He’s just going to have to hope the dog is either safe back in Aetna, or can dig his own way back out into the Underworld. 

“Why do you want to keep me here, if I’m so impossible to live with?”

“I told you before,” Hades says, and just for a moment Yunho sees the wolf, all teeth and savagery behind the civilized mask. “I keep what I take. It’s not called a death grip for nothing. You’re mine, or part mine. I just need to do something about this incessant cloud of happiness and warmth hanging over you, disturbing us all.”

_The tunnel’s gone, meaning no Mingi and no garden, and my only friend in the Underworld is under about a ton of dirt. How much more have I got to lose?_

But he doesn’t say that, because this is Hades, and there’s always something. “The agreement says I have to stay here, but it doesn’t say you get to strip me of every little bit of happiness I can find.”

“Fortunately for me, the agreement isn’t the only hold I have over you. Zeus has so many guises, and one of my favourites has always been the Protector of Oaths. If I told him that I was troubled by the way you were dishonoring our wedding vows, I think he might be willing to sign over the rest of your time to me so that I could teach you the meaning of obedience.”

The threat just about drops him where he stands. “Why would you even want me here year-round, if I’m that disruptive?”

“You’re disruptive because half of you is still free. Your raw material is so pretty, so promising, but so very _messy_. That freak offcast of Aphrodite’s you’ve been playing around with, those trips back to the world above… I put a lot of work into trying to tidy you up, trying to mould you into a more acceptable form, and those moments of emotion and mess undo everything I accomplish. But if you were mine, fully mine… well, I think the end result would be considerably finer.”

There’s a chill greater than the necklace, colder than the Underworld fog trying to worm its way inside him right now. “You’ve known I’m not faithful to my vows for years, and you’ve never once cared. You told me I could do what I liked, and I’ve never tried to hide it from you. Why this threat, why now?”

“You want to know why? Because until now you’ve been screwing around to pass the time, nothing more, just a temporary animal comfort. And there’s always been a flavour of desperation to it that appeals to me. Ultimately, you always knew you were alone, and you had to come back here. It actually helped what I was trying to achieve with you. But he’s different, I think. You carry him around with you, even now, and he gives you resolve, not desperation. If you’re with him when you’re free for the spring, it’s going to unpick all my hard work.”

It sounds like bullshit. He’s met Mingi, what, a handful of times? They barely know each other. The truth is, he reached for Mingi in the pool in just the same way he reaches for a friend, any friend, when he’s home… someone he likes who likes him back, a warm body, someone willing to chase off the chill. Someone who can help him make a little stockpile of affection for the winter. He loves all of his friends, and he’s more than happy to welcome Mingi in like that, too. There’s nothing different, nothing special about his feelings for Mingi.

Except for the fact that he badly wants, just for a moment, to touch his own lips so he can remember the warmth of that kiss again. Wants to be back under Aetna, feeling the heat singing through Mingi’s body, trailing from his fingers like liquid gold, lighting up those dark eyes with a force he can’t help but respond to.

Ah, fuck. He hates it when Hades is right.

Hades, who has allowed himself the sharpest edge of a humorless smile, like he can see the thoughts chasing around in Yunho’s head. 

“You might like to consider, too, that Zeus is the one who married Aphrodite off to your grease-monkey paramour. If you seek him out you’re not only dishonoring me, you’re meddling with whatever plans Zeus had for their union. So by all means, go ahead and rut your brains out when you’re free in spring, but spare a thought for what the Protector of Oaths might do if he’s unhappy with Mingi’s indiscretions.”

“Are you done?”

“I don’t know, are we clear?”

He takes a moment to choose his words as carefully as he can. “If Mingi or I visit each other, you’ll tell Zeus I’m screwing around and he’ll punish me for breaking my marriage vows. Zeus may also choose to punish Mingi for breaking his vows.” Despite infidelity being the biggest Olympian sport of them all, the fucking hypocrite. 

Hades plays back his words, then inclines his head in agreement. And there it is, if he’s very careful, he can still use the mirror. Seeing Mingi, hearing his voice, neither are on the forbidden list, not yet.

“I think we’re clear.”

“Then yes, Yunho. We’re done. For now.” Hades raises a gloved hand and the horse picks her way over through the mud. He pulls himself up into the saddle.

“Don’t hurry back.” 

Yunho makes himself wait until he can’t hear the thudding of the horse’s hooves before he sinks down into a crouch on the dirt mound and pulls out the mirror. The shades are still skittering around him, curious, but he’s going to have to risk it. He needs to know about Cerberus.

The rose on the back heats up under his fingers, and it’s only a moment before Mingi’s sharp, silvery face appears. 

“You’re okay? You’re okay.” He sighs, and Yunho can hear the tension and relief crackle in his voice, even through the tiny mirror. “The tunnel came down, and we didn’t know. But you’re out okay.”

The view in the mirror lurches suddenly as Mingi turns it around, and he just gets a chance to see Terrier’s shaggy muzzle before he licks the glass and everything goes dark. 

“Look who came to see us,” says Yeosang’s voice. 

Cerberus is okay. He made it. Yunho sits down in the dirt. 

“Hades found the hole. You’re going to have to hang onto Cerberus for a while,” he says. “Don’t let him dig his way back out. It’s safer for him there.”

“We’re fine with that.” Mingi seems to be cleaning the mirror off with a cloth, from the muffled sounds. “What about you? Was he - are you safe?”

“I won’t be visiting any time soon. I’m sorry.” Not this winter, and not after, either. Not with those threats hanging over them both. Hades is one thing, but Zeus is something else entirely. Zeus angry at Mingi is a whole new level of dangerous. “I’d better go.”

The mirror lightens and Mingi’s staring at him, looking like he wants to say something, but in the end he just exhales and looks away. “Don’t worry about the dog. We’ll look after him.”

“Thanks.” He holds his fingers against the brass rose to break contact before he can say something stupid. No idea what, just that there’s a whole lot of _something_ building up, tears or promises or just the useless desire to share his fears with someone who can help. 

There’s another thing Hades is right about; he’s a mess. Inside and outside both. When he gets up, there’s dark wet earth caked across his trousers. He bats at it with filthy hands, but the cold mud is seeping through already with the smell of something long-buried and rotting. 

Hiding away the mirror in the inner pocket of his waistcoat, he starts the long, uncomfortable trek back to the mansion, clinging to the thought of a bath with lion paws.


	3. Spring: Forget-me-not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note a couple of new tags, as some new Ateezers join the story!
> 
> Apologies to the gardeners out there, but I figure with an underground garden that uses impossible tech, there’s leeway for some unlikely flower combos growing at the same time. 
> 
> Also apologies to the actual ancient game of petteia. Nobody seems sure of the actual rules, but it probably didn’t involve this much stripping?

There’s a thing Yunho always does, his first spring day above ground.

He gets back to Hecate’s boarding house while it’s still dark, and his housemates are mostly sleeping the sleep of the partied out, or holed up with each other in any available space (apart from his thankfully locked room, because he loves sharing a bed with those guys, just not first morning back).

Changing out of the suit is the first thing. His own clothes are worn soft and smell like the lavender he tucks into the drawers before he leaves each year. The suit gets kicked under his bed so he can deal with it another day. Putting his earrings in is next. He rummages through the bowl and picks out the lucky topaz on a fine chain, the silver rings he got from Circe after a summer on her island, the ruby San brought him back from Xanthi. 

When he’s done, he finds his way through the dark and mostly quiet house and heads out into the fields beyond, where the grass is long and wild. He’s barefoot, feet still soft from winter but happy for the feel of grass wet with dew. Hecate’s hounds come with him, some of them racing ahead to explore and a couple pressed up against his legs, happy to see someone up and about so early.

He finds a spot somewhere mid-field and lays down in the grass to wait for sunrise. The dew soaks into his clothes, and the dogs take turns piling on and sharing their welcome-home slobber, and it’s messy and perfect and it’s the best thing ever for letting him know he’s really here. He’s made it back again. And about then he always thinks, What if I’d eaten a couple more seeds? What if I’d eaten that whole pomegranate?

And he knows he got lucky.

When the sun comes up, he lays there a while longer to appreciate the colours and the wide sky and the birds just starting to make the morning loud and joyous. Then he heads home with the dogs to sleep the rest of the day, because he’s always so tired when he gets home.

By sundown that night, when he finally wakes up, the house is all dressed for his welcoming party. Strings of pink paper lanterns hang from the balconies and doorways, and someone’s made a basketful of flower crowns for everyone to wear. Big cloth letters draped over the common lounge wall read WELCOME BACK YUNHO. The music’s loud and wild, a couple of the maenads belting out songs to the accompaniment of a faun on Hecate’s old piano and an off-duty oracle with a tenor saxophone. 

He’s got a glass of ice cold beer in one hand, and his other arm is wrapped around Wooyoung, meadow nymph and one of his two best friends, lazing against his side as he circulates. Wooyoung’s filling him in on six months of gossip, murmuring low and bitchy in his ear, stopping every so often to cackle at his own stories. So now he knows who’s fucked who, who’s having a baby or raising a godly foundling, who Zeus has turned into a tree for being too pretty or too classy to give in to his charms.

Once they’ve done the rounds of the house and he’s been soundly and thoroughly kissed by everyone they meet, he settles onto one of the big battered couches in the lounge to listen to the music, beer in hand, Wooyoung lying next to him with his legs over top of Yunho’s. He studies Yunho, head cocked at an angle like he’s trying to figure something out. 

“You look good. Why do you look so good, this time? Like you’re still in one piece, like we’re not gonna have to spend a couple of weeks putting you back together.” 

Is he going to kid himself and pretend like he doesn’t know why? _He insulates you._ It’s the mirror in his pocket. Even if he hasn’t used it yet, too worried that he’s underestimating the risk to Mingi, it’s the mirror and the fact that somewhere out there Mingi’s carrying around its other half.

Yunho takes a gulp of beer, smiling to himself. “Tell you when San gets here.”

“Oh, secrets? You don’t usually come back with secrets.” Eyes smudged with kohl and full of spiky affection, he runs his fingers over the white shirt Yunho’s wearing, tracing the lace flowers down the front. “I like this, it’s cute.”

“You’re cute.” And Wooyoung _is_ cute, fiercely cute, with dramatic moods that change faster than the weather. 

Case in point, curiosity’s rapidly giving way to a familiar teasing smile that lights up his sharp face. He takes Yunho’s hand and kisses the palm, grinning at him from behind his own fingers.

“You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed your hands.” 

Holding his eyes with that challenging smirk, he guides Yunho’s hand to his lap and shifts suggestively underneath him, eyebrow raised as if daring him to complain. It’s prime nymph behaviour; nobody’s going to bat an eyelid at a party like this.

Wooyoung’s head slips back against the couch with a happy sigh as Yunho takes the hint and rubs the heel of his hand against him, curling his fingers around him to stroke him through his trousers. “You got any Cerberus stories? Speaking of cute.”

“I can’t believe you put my hand on your dick and you’re asking about the dog.”

“Those stories are sweet! I like how he makes you happy.”

“You make me happy.” He takes a mouthful of beer, eyes falling closed to better enjoy the taste of it after all this time. “I do have one story, though.”

“Mmm, tell me.” Wooyoung’s hips are lifting slightly with the rhythm of his stroking, pressing up into Yunho’s hand. He can’t help but feel Wooyoung’s full attention isn't on the story, but he’s going to tell it anyway. He’s not going to wait till San gets here to talk about Mingi because he wants him here now, even if it’s just as a story to entertain his friends. It’s not because the hand job’s reminding him. Okay, it’s not just that. 

“So Cerberus dug this hole out in the park, well, not just a hole actually, a whole wide-ass tunnel big enough to walk down. Hell of a way to meet your neighbor, stepping out of a hole in his wall.”

Wooyoung laughs. “Oh, yeah? Who?”

“Mingi, you know him? Cerberus dug straight through to his workshop. He makes—”

But Woo slams a hand right across his mouth and he makes a muffled noise of surprise. 

“Are you kidding? Don’t mention him around here, you know he’s banned, right? From Olympus and hereabouts, for like a hundred years?”

He bites impatiently at Wooyoung’s palm to make him move it. “No, what? Why is he banned?” And how does he not know this?

“Love of Gaea, how do you not remember? You know how he spent a few years on the love train, with Dionysus and those guys?”

“Uh… no?”

Wooyoung laughs, scornful. “How do you know so little? I think he built it, or some shit. Went on board for a while as an engineer. Ino!” The sudden bark of his voice makes Yunho jump. One of the maenads bounces over, leans down to kiss him, sequined hair ribbons tickling his face.

“Hey, Yunho, welcome back. Woo, you bellowed?”

“Tell Yunho about that guy on the train, the one we’re not supposed to talk about anymore.”

“Who, Mingi?” Her sweet face goes dreamy. “Oh, hell, Mingi, yeah, we still miss him. He had this thing he could do, with his fingers? Like liquid heat, or something.” 

Yunho can’t help the reflexive shiver that hits him at that, and Wooyoung turns to look at him, sharply curious. 

“Plus, best dick game on the train.” 

Okay, to tell the truth, he’s having trouble fitting it together with the Mingi he met, so much so that he wants to ask her - this is the big guy, right? Grumpy weaponsmith? Awkward and monosyllabic and hiding away from all human contact if he can?

But Mingi’s hands, he can remember how good they felt. That trail of heat running golden along his skin, the maddening slow burn of friction under his palm teasing him to hardness. And the feeling of Mingi pressed up against him in the baths, there was nothing remotely shy about that, the way he got Yunho just where he wanted him and pinned him there to explore at leisure. And the kissing, oh yeah, the kissing. The memory’s enough to make him melt into the couch. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Wooyoung’s still scrutinizing him, like he can see there’s a story to be teased out of him. “Okay, but tell Yunho why he got banned.”

Ino’s face sours. “It was Zeus.”

They share a look, because obviously it was Zeus. Ruiner of Fun. Wooyoung calls him Bad Dad, and he’s not far wrong.

“None of us knew he was on the train. He was pulling that trick where he’s walking around all shapeshifted, so he can screw around. We all thought he was just another asshole satyr, and he’d fucked his way through half the train. Hit on Mingi, and it was like he’d hit bedrock. Mingi refused him point blank. Which might have been cool, if they hadn’t got into a drinking game one night.”

Wooyoung snickers. “I heard he drank Zeus under the table.”

“Zeus is competitive as hell but he wasn’t in his own body, and Mingi’s got like this cast iron stomach.” She starts to giggle. “They just kept going until Zeus was falling down drunk, and he threw up all over this maenad he wanted to bone. She wouldn’t go near him, after that.”

Yunho finds his voice. “What, and they banned him for that?”

“Oh, they made up some bullshit reason. Told everyone Mingi was making weapons on the sly for the Titans, or something. But that’s what it was. Mingi stopped him getting his dick wet, and he didn’t like it.”

Warm blunt hands slip over Yunho’s shoulders at the same time as a body presses against him from over the back of the couch. The way Wooyoung’s face changes, that uniquely fond mix of love and irritation tips him off, even before he hears his voice. 

“Who’s not getting their dick wet? Tell me it’s not our favourite boy, back again, because he’s gonna get his dick so, so wet.” 

Yunho rubs his head back against the mountain nymph in greeting, grinning widely. “Sannie, give me kisses.”

San lays a noisy kiss right on his ear before nipping at his earlobe, tongue and teeth deftly navigating the piercings. 

“What is this, your hair’s got so long, look at this.” His hand threads into Yunho’s hair and pulls his head to an angle that gives him better access to the exposed line of his throat. “I like it, though. It’s got potential.” There’s a pleasurable sting as he sucks and bites a mark onto Yunho’s neck. Taking possession, San calls it, like he’s some sort of house they’re moving back into. It’s another one of those first day back things that let him know he’s home.

“Did Wooyoung invite you up to our room so we could welcome you properly?”

There are a series of little pulls and tugs on the hair over his ear. Feels like San might be plaiting it. 

“I got distracted,” grumbles Wooyoung, bringing Yunho’s hand back to his groin pointedly. “Everyone wants a piece of him.”

“That’s fair. But we’ve missed you the most,” he murmurs right next to Yunho’s ear. “You know that, right?” His breath is hot on Yunho’s neck. “Missed the taste of you on my tongue.” He kisses a path down his neck and Yunho tilts his head obligingly to one side again. “Missed the feel of you, filling my throat.”

Wooyoung shifts under Yunho’s hand, an impatient reminder. “San, stop distracting him, he keeps forgetting what he’s doing!”

“You’re unbelievable, he’s only just got back and you’re making him do all the work. The first day back is for spoiling him stupid, how are you so lazy?”

“Shut up, he likes touching me, right, Yunho? Tell him you’ve missed touching me.” 

Wooyoung struggles upright and throws a leg over Yunho’s lap so he can straddle him and glare at San at the same time. Yunho settles his hands around Wooyoung’s hips and rubs his thumbs over the bare skin where his shirt’s riding up. He gives a wriggle of happiness and leans forward to kiss Yunho, warm and wet. 

Yunho smiles on the tail of the kiss, happy to be home. “Yeah, I’ve missed touching you. Both of you.”

“There, you see?” The teasing light’s come back into Wooyoung’s eyes and he starts to move, just subtly for now, a gentle rocking that presses his erection up against Yunho each time he rocks forwards. “He missed us. And see, I’m doing some of the work too, so don’t tell me I’m lazy.”

“Hey, Yunho, I don’t wanna interrupt you, but we should talk sometime.” 

Yunho peers around Wooyoung at the new voice, hands exerting a soft pressure to stop his movement. Aphrodite’s leaning against the fireplace, highball glass of something vividly blue in her hand, wire-rimmed glasses pushed up to sit on her floral crown. She’s barefoot and lanky with an impressive set of reddened bitemarks trailing into the neckline of her disheveled white shirt, and she’s so wildly pretty it takes his breath away, but all he can think is, _You laughed at his garden, you idiot._

“I’ve been hearing some interesting stuff from our gold metal friend. Come find me when you’re done with them, okay?” She waves the drink at Wooyoung and San. “I think they’re just about done being patient for now.”

She must mean Yeosang, she’s been talking to Yeosang. Which means it’s something to do with Mingi.

He watches her thread her way off through the party, until Wooyoung leans down to capture his attention. “What’s she talking about? What gold metal friend?”

San climbs over the back of the couch and settles himself on Yunho’s other side. He’s wearing a black suit that wouldn’t look out of place in the Underworld, but on San it’s somehow madly sexy. Yunho leans in to kiss him hello properly, and when he pulls back a little breathlessly San’s smiling so wide all his dimples are on display. “You’ve got a golden friend? Don’t tell me you’ve been hanging out with Midas?”

Wooyoung’s laugh is scornful. “Idiot, he wasn’t gold. He made other people gold.”

“It’s not Midas,” says Yunho. “It’s Mingi. His automaton, Yeosang. He’s gold.”

“Yunho met Mingi over winter,” Wooyoung tells San. “And Aphrodite’s married to Mingi, so…”

“What? She got married? _Why_?”

“Why does anyone around here get married?” asks Yunho. “It was Zeus.”

Just that one name shuts things down, the way it always does.

Wooyoung slaps his chest. “Wait, why does she want to talk to you about Mingi? Unless… oh Yunho, have you been putting your dick where it shouldn’t be? Is she gonna fight you?”

San laughs. “If she wanted him to suffer, she’s not gonna let us fuck him first.”

“Are you sure? She might wanna tire him out, she’s clever like that. And he’s gonna be like a puddle on the floor when we’re finished with him. That’s just smart tactics.” Wooyoung’s eyes are shrewd as he inspects Yunho. “You have, haven’t you. Something’s happened with you and him, and she knows about it.”

“Dunno. That’s what I’m going to find out.” He coaxes Wooyoung off his lap, hands around his waist. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Don’t leave it too long, we’ve already waited six months.” Wooyoung kisses him hard, and there’s a pointed message there in the press of his teeth behind his lips. Yunho’s going to have to put in some work for forgiveness, which is fine by him, because he knows a lot of fun ways guaranteed to get Wooyoung into a better mood. The thought’s going right to his dick already, and if she didn’t have a message about Mingi he wouldn’t be getting off the couch quite so fast.

He finds Aphrodite dancing in a crowd of nymphs and maenads. She’s already shed her shirt, the red sequins and beads on her corset catching the light as she moves. When a new song starts, she pulls the maenad she’s dancing with into a deep, noisy kiss, twirls her under her arm and away, before finding her way over to Yunho. Her glasses are all fogged up, and there’s new lipstick tracking across one apple cheek.

“Hey, Yunho, you really didn’t have to stop what you were doing, it can wait.” Her smile is pure mischief, and it makes her look uncannily like Wooyoung. “Or were you just really quick? It’s probably been a while, huh.” She fishes around in her pocket and comes up with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Come outside, I wanna smoke.”

She takes him outside onto the back porch. It’s a warm night, moths fluttering around the porch lantern and just the faintest breeze rippling the long grass in the field behind the house. Close up, Aphrodite smells of the sea; of salt and sand and sun-warmed skin. She lights up a cigarette and offers it to him. When he shakes his head she blows the smoke away from him but he can smell it hanging in the air, spicy and sweet like cloves and cardamom.

“How’s Hades? Still a rock solid dickhead?”

He smiles despite himself. “Pretty much.”

“I never got what you saw in him.”

It’s funny, he was a smoker, too. The first time they met, Hades had ducked out of an especially heated meeting with Zeus and Poseidon and was stalking through the gardens at Olympus, practicing his arguments with dramatic gestures of his cigarette. He’d completely missed the fact that Yunho was busy giving a little loving care to the roses, and Yunho had been too embarrassed to draw attention to himself until Hades had practically fallen over him where he crouched amongst the bushes. The way his irritation had switched so fast to become the slickest of chat-ups had kind of charmed him, at the time.

“He’s got a way with words,” he says. It’s as true as anything.

“Yeah, those are the ones you gotta watch, the smooth talkers. What you want is someone who knows how to do silence. Maybe a bit awkward. Maybe falls over his words, sometimes.” She smiles out at the evening, clearly savouring her cigarette. “So, Mingi’s golden pal paid me a visit this week. Now there’s a smooth talker, really, Yeosang.”

“He flirted with you?”

“He certainly did his best.” She smiles. “Nah, he’s cute. I like Yeosang. He had an interesting story to tell me, though.”

“Oh, yeah?” About now he wishes he smoked so that he could have something to do with his hands. He makes do with picking at the loose threads on the knee of his trousers, instead.

“Yeah, but I’m curious to hear it from you. Wanna tell me what happened?”

It feels… like a test. He’s got no idea how much Yeosang even knows about him and Mingi, apart from that one kiss he saw. Or what Mingi might have told him - or even what Mingi thinks about it all. He’s not sure if it’s a test of his honesty, or if he needs to protect Mingi by lying, denying everything. The beer’s really not helping clear up his options. 

Aphrodite looks so friendly, sitting there with her glasses flipped up on top of her head next to the flower crown, smelling like beaches and spicy cookie dough, but she’s one of them. An Olympian. He’s worried about Zeus finding out; all it would take would be one word from her, and Mingi’s screwed.

“There’s not much to tell. Our hellhound dug a tunnel into his workshop. He let me use some of his garden to plant flowers.” He looked at me like I was all the gods rolled into one and he touched me like he’d discovered the secret of fire and he kisses like a fucking dream. 

She’s still looking at him like she’s waiting for something, Yeosang must have said something more. He takes a guess. “I kissed him goodbye. I was grateful for the garden, and he’s easy on the eye. Hades found the hole and blocked it off. That’s it, that’s the story.”

She sighs, tapping ash over the porch railing. “See, I was just curious to hear what your take on it was. The same day is a different story, depending on who you ask. You discover a sexy neighbour and fool around a little because you’re bored and lonely, to take the sting out of a loveless marriage. You feel sorry for some loser you find hiding away from life at the bottom of a mountain and decide to give him some of your sweet, sweet lovin’ to be kind. You find a new friend you wanna get to know better, but you can’t.” She smiles at him, sideways. “It’s not like any of those are bad, or wrong. Love and attraction look like a million different things. I’m just curious, and when I hear you talk, I can get a feel for where you are with it.” She pushes her glasses down into place and inspects him, squinting, half smiling at him. “You’ve got such an open face, Yunho, you really shouldn’t bother trying to hide things. Bet you don’t trust me much, huh.”

“I don’t trust any of the Olympians. And yeah, that includes my mother.”

“Well, those are good instincts, at least. We’re all assholes, selfish as fuck, sneaky as fuck, even your boy Mingi. It’s in the blood. Best not to get involved with us. Stick to your nymphs.”

He laughs. “You couldn’t have told me that before I got married?”

“Would you have listened? Any more than you’re likely to listen now?” 

He just looks at her steadily, knowing there’s probably no way to hide what’s in his eyes when they’re talking about Mingi. 

“Yeah, I thought not. Well then, if you’re ever in a situation where invoking me will help, do it. I’ll back you up.”

She seems to value honesty, so he asks. “Why would you do that?”

She takes another pull on the cigarette, lets the smoke out in a long sigh. “When he wasn’t busy flirting, Yeosang tried his hand at guilt-tripping me. He thinks I owe Mingi, because he married me to get Zeus off my case. I don’t actually feel like I owe him, it was his idea to go through with it and he was pretty damn insistent, but I do feel… grateful. And sorry that it meant more to him than it should have. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t one more shitty thing I’d be helping happen to him. One more heartbreak I was queuing up.”

Yunho takes a breath, tosses a mental coin. Should he trust her, or not? He doesn’t know who else can or will help, and he can’t fix this on his own. He says it before he can stop himself, all in a rush. “Hades threatened to tell Zeus about Mingi, that he’s breaking his marriage vows.”

She sucks on her lower lip, thoughtful. He watches calculations he can’t begin to guess at flicker across her face. “It figures, that son of a bitch. Zeus likes to use Mingi as a threat if people pester him about me. Watch out, or the scary cave-dweller will come for you with his mighty arsenal of weapons. Doesn’t work so well if Mingi’s happily shagging other people. ” She stubs out her cigarette and pockets the butt. “Okay, I’ll think about that one, leave it to me. But be careful. Of Zeus, above all else. Now I’d better go, your boys are about done waiting for you.”

He looks back into the house, where Wooyoung is sitting just through the screen door on the kitchen floor. He waves at Yunho and raises a shot glass. Aphrodite picks herself up and heads back to the party, ruffling Wooyoung’s hair as she goes past. He leans into the touch of her hand, looking like a contented and ever so slightly tipsy cat getting stroked just the way it likes. Once she’s gone, San hoists Wooyoung up by his collar and pushes him out ahead of him, onto the back porch. Woo collapses in a happy, boneless heap next to Yunho, arms around his knees and a half-full bottle in one hand.

San sits next to them more sedately, handing Yunho a fresh glass of beer. “That looked intense and surprisingly less hot than I was expecting. But on the other hand, she didn’t kill you for fucking her husband.”

“That’s because I didn’t fuck him.”

“Not yet.” Wooyoung smirks and waves the bottle at him. “I know that face. You cannot hide anything.”

Yunho takes a big mouthful of beer to hide his smile. Looks like he’s just going to have to accept it. He’s an open book, apparently, at least where it comes to Mingi. Mingi, who’s waiting for him on the other end of the mirror in his pocket. Who might not wait forever. Who kisses like a dream and has the best dick game on Dionysus’ love train.

“Care to make out on the porch swing? I have great memories of that swing.” San tweaks the plait in his hair. “I think Hecate reinforced the chains after it came down that last time.”

“Nah, I think you guys go ahead. I’m gonna - there’s something I wanna do.”

San doesn’t give up that easily. He leans in close with a level stare, just the hint of a smile, dimples making the faintest dents in his cheeks. “You’re sure it can’t wait?” He’s an immovable mountain, when he wants to be.

“This is something I need to do.”

San pulls back from him. “Huh. You’ve changed.”

“Yeah, a steady diet of the Underworld will do that to you.”

“No, not that, I get that. That doesn’t change you here.” He lays his hand over Yunho’s heart, smooths his shirt with his thumb. “This, whatever this is, it’s different. Not bad. Just different.” He brings his other hand up to rub across Yunho’s chest, and there’s an edge to his playful smile. “Any other homecoming, you would have been fucking Woo open so prettily by now, until he begged for more.” Wooyoung gives a little sighing whimper at that, hugging his knees to his chest. “This change, though… I think you probably needed it.” San sounds just a little doubtful, like he wants to convince himself. “No, it’s good. You’ve found something important.”

Honestly, though? He’s not sure how important it is, just that he really wants to hear Mingi’s voice again, even if he’s just bitching that Yunho woke him up, or telling him about how the irrigation system works. And he wants to see that look on Mingi’s face while he talks, like it’s too dangerous to look Yunho in the eye for long, like he’s hiding away the best parts of himself like a present Yunho can unwrap with a bit of patience and care. 

Wooyoung’s watching his face with tipsy curiosity. “As long as we get to welcome you back properly sometime soon, I don’t care what’s changed you, but we need to hear who and how. I wanna know the gossip.”

San cares, though. His pride’s a little dented, their high-topped mountain. He’s happy for Yunho, but he’s ever so slightly put out, too. Yunho gives him the best apology he knows how, a long, deep kiss that carries his heart and a fair amount of tongue. In response, San sinks his teeth into Yunho’s lip hard enough to make him yelp, which is fair.

San sucks on Yunho’s bitten lip and leans his forehead against Yunho’s. “Yeah, we’re okay, but you owe me. Owe us. A story, if nothing else.”

“Deal.”

This time when San leans in to kiss him it’s sweeter, less punishing. He’s been at least partially forgiven, for now. Yunho presses his lips against San’s forehead in thanks. He scrambles to his feet, bends down to kiss Woo as well, and then pushes open the screen door to a blast of music from the party. 

Yunho’s equal parts nervous and excited when he gets upstairs to his room, refilled glass in his hand and stomach fluttering in the best possible way. There’s a pleasant fog of beer and arousal drowning out the warnings in his head, just the way he likes it.

His room’s a chaos of clothes shed to dress for tonight, empty plates where he’s stuffed himself on all of his favourite dishes now he can eat again, cosmetics in clay pots and bottles of scented oils. He lights a lamp and opens the window so he can feel the night air. The sweet scent of wisteria drifts in to greet him.

Am I really doing this? I think I’m really doing this. 

He sits at the table by the window with his brimming glass of beer, leaning his face into it and sipping noisily from the top to calm his nerves. In between, he turns the mirror over and over in his hands, seeing himself appear and disappear in the dark glass, makeup all smeared where San and Wooyoung have been at it. He scrubs at his lips, but his mouth still looks red and his face is flushed. He looks completely trashy, matter of fact, and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

A tiny part of him wonders if Mingi will still like him if he’s not all dressed up neat and tidy. Then he remembers the way Mingi looked at him in the pool, when he was covered in mud and half undressed. He’s probably good.

Okay, last chance to call this off, right here and now. Yunho puts the mirror on the table, face down. He can still choose not to talk to Mingi, to keep him safe. For a moment, those distant warnings snap into sharp focus through the beer haze. Hades, taunting him with the Protector of Oaths. Aphrodite’s voice still in his ears.

_Be careful of Zeus, above all else._

But the thing is, the only thing is, he wants to talk to Mingi so badly. He wants to see that cranky, closed-off face, to feel Mingi gradually warm to him again, even if he’s mad at Yunho for not calling all those last weeks of winter. Even if it’s going to take the whole night to tease him back into a good mood, or whatever passes for it with Mingi.

He picks up the mirror again. It makes no sense, it’s such a bad bad _dangerous_ idea, but his thumb’s resting on the rose before he can stop it, like it’s detached from his brain. Whoops, sorry, never mind.

And there, in a long heartbeat, there’s Mingi. 

It’s dark, wherever he is. The mirror makes his angular face look grainy, makes the shadows pool under his sharp cheekbones and full lower lip. He’s just as expressionless as Yunho remembers, until a wide, slow smile takes over his face, his eyes scrunching up into happy crescents. He had no idea Mingi’s face could even make that expression. The flutter in his stomach kicks in bigtime. What the hell. He looks so happy to see him.

“Hey, apple blossom.”

Yunho blinks. “Did you just call me apple blossom?”

“What do you prefer - sweetpea? Rosebud?”

There’s a weirdly familiar voice in the background, singing a very familiar song. 

“Wait, there are too many Yunhos, hold on.” The view on the mirror scrambles and he’s left staring at the pillows on the garden bed, tassels just faintly red in the muted colour of the mirror. The singing cuts off suddenly.

“Was that me? Were you listening to me?”

Mingi reappears. “I was playing you to the sprouts! I swear. Just for the plants. I’m very responsible. Wait, lemme show you! You’d be so proud, they’re growing so much.”

The view in the mirror shifts and he’s looking at their garden all of a sudden. He can’t make out much, the way the mirror’s swooping around, but the garden’s looking great, even with the mirror draining colour out of everything. Also, his stomach is lurching with every swoop and he feels like he’s going to throw up.

“I wish you could smell them, they’re beautiful.” Mingi’s beaming at Yunho again. “They smell kinda like you taste. Kinda sweet, but not? Just, really nice.” He sighs happily.

“Are you drunk?”

Mingi gives him an exaggerated look of pure innocence. “What? No!” His mouth tilts again. “Maybe? A little. But, Yunho. Snowdrop.”

“What?” He wants to keep Mingi talking; he’s curious to see how many flower names Mingi actually remembers. Also, no lie, he’d probably lay down and die for maybe-a-little-drunk Mingi. That eye smile is doing funny things to his insides. 

“You look so different. Good different. Happy different. I like that thing in your hair, the little braid. Also, you look… like you’ve spent most of the night kissing people. You’re all...” he swipes his hand across his face to demonstrate what he means with a toothy grin. Could be anything, but it’s probably the complete wreck of his makeup. Yunho finds himself smiling back.

“Yeah, there were a lot of people wanting to say hello tonight. Most of them were nymphs. It gets pretty messy, the way they say hello.”

The moment he says it he wants to take it back, just rewind his stupid mouth. Mingi’s stuck underground and banned from Olympus, with only Yeosang for company. The one time lately he’s had the chance to get close to another living being, and Yunho rejects him because of some sketchy personal drama. And now Yunho gets to be up here partying with nymphs, free to do what he wants with almost anyone he wants, six months of the year. Looking like a trashy mess, on account of all the kissing.

But Mingi just grins, a flush all over his face. “If I was there, would you be kissing me too?”

“If you were here, I wouldn’t be kissing anyone else.” It sounds like a shitty line, but he means it with all his heart the moment he says it. All due apologies to Woo and San.

Mingi just laughs. “Yunho, I don’t mind if you wanna kiss other people, we’re immortal. Life’s too damn long to just kiss one person.” His sidelong smile is so sneaky, it’s cute. “It’s nice you’re gonna kiss me too, though.”

“Yeah, but I can see those guys anytime, well, mostly anytime. Half the year. You…”

Mingi puts his fingers to his lips, pouts, raises his eyebrows dramatically. “I’m the special event, right?” That mouth with the slightest upturn at the corners, the knowing eyes. He’s not wrong. Yunho remembers just how soft those lips are, how they feel under his. It makes him dizzy, how much he wants that feeling back. He takes a big swallow of beer to help push it all to the back of his brain.

“Anyway,” says Mingi. “It makes sense there’s a lot of kissing going on. Have you seen your mouth lately?” He makes a frustrated noise that almost sounds like a growl. “Should have made bigger mirrors. I can’t see you properly.”

Yunho pulls the mirror back and angles it at his lips, giving Mingi a moody pout of his own for good measure. There’s a long, drawn-out sound from the mirror, part sigh, almost a moan. “Oh, yeah, I was right. It’s the perfect shape for kissing. No wonder the nymphs want a piece.”

“I wish you were here.” He says it without thinking, because it really is about the only thought in his head right now. Blame the beer.

“Yeah, me too. Believe me, if I could be there, I would.”

“I actually heard a story tonight about the reason you can’t come visit.”

The mirror goes dark, as if Mingi has just leaned forward onto it. Yunho hears a groan, followed by the soft sound of laughter. “Okay.”

“It’s a very interesting story, if it’s true. Is it true?”

He laughs again, pulling back just enough for Yunho to see one dark hazy eye. “It depends. Maybe?”

He gets momentarily distracted by the eye smile up close. “Okay, though, but if you can drink Zeus under the table, how are you so drunk right now?”

“Listen, peony, I am very. Very. Dedicated to doing things right. Or not at all.”

There’s something intimate about the way he’s reduced to indistinct shades, the occasional gleam of his eyes and the quiet way he’s talking, like they’re lounging around together in the dark. That husky voice, it’s like Yunho can feel his hand on him again, that leisurely stroke, the heat and the friction of his touch driving him crazy. He’s getting hard, and all he’s doing is listening to that voice, like it’s touching him sweet and low in all the right places. _You’re so responsive_ — Hades, you have literally no idea. 

Mingi sighs, like he’s reading Yunho’s mind. “We just need to figure out how to spring you from the lizard lord. Then, maybe, you could come visit me. Us? The sprouts.” 

Oh, yeah, he keeps forgetting. Mingi still thinks their main problem is his asshole husband. “How’s the agreement going? Did Yeosang find the holes, yet?”

“He says he’s got some ideas, just needs to think some more.” Mingi grins. “I built him a friend to help him out, figured it would free him up to work on it.”

“Wait, you made another automaton?”

“I was going to redesign him completely. Kinda wanted to make him like you, you know, smart and handsome. Hot as fuck. But then I asked Yeosang what he wanted and he said he just wanted someone who liked cleaning up, because that’s the job he hates most. Why would you want that, how is that important?”

It’s not the _handsome_ that gets him. Not even the _hot as fuck_. But smart? Mingi’s a mad genius at everything he touches, and he thinks Yunho’s _smart_? He can honestly say nobody’s ever pinned that one on him before. There’s a strange sense of warmth inside him at the thought. He hugs it to himself, takes another gulp of beer to wash it down.

“Then he said he wanted someone kind, who could surprise him and make him laugh, and that makes more sense. Apart from the cleaning, it sounds just like you. You’re the kindest person I know, forget-me-not.”

He’s had so many people talking at him tonight about Mingi. The maenad, Wooyoung and San, Aphrodite, all their words tumbling in his head like dice in a cup. And the different pieces of Mingi he’s been hearing about - the amazing dick game, drinking Zeus under the table, shy and awkward, can’t trust the Olympians not even Mingi - are churning inside him in a wash of beer and confusion. 

Confusion; because all he can see is Mingi’s soft face with the shadows shifting across it, telling him how smart and kind he is, looking so vulnerable to happiness that Yunho’s scared again.

 _You might be one more heartbreak I’m queuing_ _up for him._

“Why am I even talking to you,” he breathes. “I wasn’t going to talk to you.” All I am is messy trouble. I’m about as far from smart and kind as you can get.

It’s like watching a pond ice over as Mingi’s smile fades. And there’s the face he was expecting to see tonight, the self-protective tilt of his jaw that looks like arrogance, the coolness in his eyes.

Yunho’s learning how to read his expressionlessness. There’s that thing he does, where he armors up with his most untouchable fuck-off face when he’s feeling soft or horny and he wants to hide it away. There’s the way he goes away somewhere off behind his eyes when he’s tinkering with an invention. This isn’t either of those. Yunho’s hurt him, and Mingi’s retreating.

Yunho touches the mirror like he can wipe it away. “No, I wanted to talk to you, I just wasn’t going to, I told myself not to. I wanted to. Want to.”

He’s getting this all wrong. He wants the other Mingi back. The one who smiles with his whole eyes. He touches the frame of the mirror again, like he can summon him. Can he tell him about Zeus, about what Hades said? He wasn’t going to do that, was he? “I keep forgetting what I can’t say.”

“So don’t not say anything.” Mingi blinks. “I mean, say anything you want.” 

“I don’t know if I can, I can’t figure out what keeps you safe.”

“What keeps _me_ safe?” Mingi searches his face and for all he’s leaning ever so slightly askew, blinking at him slow and tipsy, there’s a fierce intelligence burning there that pins Yunho to the spot. “But I’m not the one in danger - huh. He’s threatened me. Interesting.”

“And I called you anyway.” He held out for one _day_ up here. He runs a hand through his hair, wanting to slap his own face. “I’m sorry.”

“Yunho. I can take care of myself. What’s Hades gonna do, get me banned from Olympus?” The smile’s starting to come back again. “Besides, I like that you wanted to see me.”

Yunho puts the mirror down softly, so softly, and wraps both hands around the beer glass. It’s almost empty. How did it get to be almost empty? He chugs down the last few mouthfuls of bitter foam.

“Hey, Yunho. Come back to me. It’s gonna be okay, Yeosang’s on it, we’ll sort this. Come on, show me around your room. I wanna see where you spend your time up there. The ceiling’s nice. Wish I was seeing it under different circumstances.”

Yunho snorts. When he picks up the mirror, eye smile Mingi is back, and he’s so, so weak for eye smile Mingi. He turns the mirror around to show him the room.

“The house is Hecate’s, but my ma owns part of it too. It’s so big it gets used as a halfway house for anyone looking for a home for a while. Mostly nymphs and small fry gods like me, the odd demigod between quests.”

He can only imagine how cluttered and messy it must look to Mingi. His blankets in a patchwork rainbow of colours, all piled up on the brass bed; the fireplace still full of ashes from the night before, when he arrived. Scented oils and a bowl full of bright earrings on the bedside table. Seed trays sprouting on the table, and bags of soil lined up against the wall. After the freezing open spaces of Hades’ mansion, it’s just right. A snug little hidey-hole about as far from the Underworld’s half-dead black and white as he can get. 

“Wait, you play petteia?”

Yunho turns the mirror back to his crowded nightstand, where the board and stones are stacked behind a crappy sketch of Cerberus that looks like a glove puppet with three angry faces. “Yeah, when Hecate’s around.” None of his housemates have much time for board games that they can’t play while smashed off their faces.

“Dionysus taught me to play, when I was on the train. I haven’t played in years, though. Yeosang’s kinda hard to live with when he wins. You want a game?”

“Sure, one day.”

“No, I meant now. Wanna play now?”

Neither of them are exactly sober, and they only have a pocket-sized mirror to see through. And if he’s honest, he didn’t exactly have board games in mind when he picked up the mirror, much as he loves them. He opens his mouth to turn him down, until Mingi adds thoughtfully, “Of course on the train, we only played strip petteia.”

Yunho closes his mouth. His brain’s taking a moment to catch up. “Strip petteia?”

“Come on, honeysuckle. It’ll be fun. Of course, if you don’t think you’re good enough to see me naked…”

“Get ready to lose it all.” So he’s rusty as hell and he was never that great to begin with, but maybe just maybe he can remember enough of Hecate’s dirty tricks to earn a little bit of bare skin? Please, Gaea. He’s already reaching for the board. “Okay, so how do we do this?”

“You set up your board, I set up mine, we show each other the moves we make, and every stone you lose, you lose a piece of clothing. Simple.” His voice is soft but there’s a smiling challenge in his eyes, like he’s daring Yunho not to back down.

“Can I add one more rule?” He’s used this before with drinking games, and it’s fun. And it never ever goes horribly wrong, says a sober little voice in his head that he’s going to ignore completely. “If you lose, and you’ve got nothing more to take off, you have to pay a forfeit. Winner chooses.”

“Deal.” Mingi’s face reads satisfied anticipation. It occurs to him just for a small clearheaded moment to wonder how good Mingi is at petteia. But he’s a lot more drunk than Yunho. It’s not like he’s going to be making his smartest moves, right?

He sets up on the bed, so he’s got more room to stretch out. His set is a battered old board that he’s borrowed from Hecate with pieces made from painted wood, but Mingi’s set is handmade, the lines of the polis engraved onto a board made of copper. His black stones are polished obsidian and the white are smooth, glossy moonstone.

A pretty board’s not gonna help him win, though. And in fact, either the drink’s wrecking Mingi’s concentration or he wasn’t that good to begin with, because he starts by making a whole slew of rookie mistakes. His waistcoat’s the first thing to come off, followed by his boots and the dark silk cravat at the neck of his shirt. He’s lounging around now with his shirt unbuttoned, lamplight gilding the skin of his throat.

Yunho can already feel the beer catching up with him and fuzzing his brain. He keeps forgetting to plan his next move, caught by the way the neck of Mingi’s shirt opens wider when he leans over his board. He’s propped the mirror up at just the right angle for Yunho to see a shadowy hint of collarbone whenever he moves his pieces. 

After the cravat, either Mingi’s play is warming up or Yunho’s really losing focus because it takes a lot of moves to corner Mingi’s next white stone. He has to fight for it, and he feels a moment of fierce satisfaction when he wins it. It lasts exactly as long as it takes for Mingi to remove his shirt.

The view in the mirror jolts as Mingi drops it on the bed beside him. Yunho’s left looking up into what must be the workings of the constellation lamp. In the background, he can hear the faint, maddening sound of Mingi unbuttoning and taking off his shirt. With a swoop the mirror is back, and he gets a slow flick of the sight of his bare torso. The mirror’s not the clearest; the image is grainy, the colour washed out, and even so it punches the breath out of him in a rush. 

“If I was there…” Where is he going with this? His brain’s making an unhelpful high-pitched noise. “The game board would be on the floor right now and I would have my hands all over you. Or my mouth. Or both. Yeah, I think both.”

Shirtless Mingi treats him to a crooked smile that just about destroys him. “I think I like you better with your clothes still on.”

Also not something he hears a lot. “Uh. Thanks?”

“No, see, that shirt you’re wearing, that’s some sort of lace, right? In that light, it’s almost see-through, the weave is so loose. But I can’t help wondering. If I ran my fingers over it, would I be able to feel your nipples? I think I could. I think I’d like that, the feeling of the shirt, all soft and sheer, and under that, I could feel how much you liked my hands on you.” He blinks lazily, eyes roaming Yunho like he’s just planning where he’d start taking him apart. Soft lower lip pulled between his teeth in concentration. 

Just like that, Yunho’s grasp on petteia vanishes. Mingi starts winning with an ease that makes him hazily suspicious that he’s been played. Just to spite him, Yunho takes off his shirt the first time he loses a piece. 

He turns the mirror on himself afterwards, lets it drift slowly down his chest, the taut buds of his nipples, down his stomach to the happy trail leading into his trousers. He lingers there a moment, and when he pulls the mirror back to his face he just has time to catch an unguarded look before the walls go up and yes, there’s Mingi’s patented expressionless face #1. Soft or horny, and he’s pretty sure he knows which it is. Apparently Mingi was full of shit, and he’s quite happy with Yunho’s clothes off as well. 

After that, play gets messy. They scrap back and forth over the few remaining stones until Yunho deliberately throws a move because the sight of Mingi and the muscles in his shoulders flexing every time he leans forward to move a piece is driving him _batshit_ and quite frankly, his trousers are too tight and he just wants them off. 

He stands the mirror up on the nightstand so that he can make a show of removing the trousers. He’s too busy enjoying the sight of Mingi’s face to register at first that it leaves him down to his last piece of clothing, the loose cotton drawers, knotted drawstring chafing his dick as he tries to get comfortable on the bed. 

“Interesting move there, peach blossom.”

“You’ve already used blossom.”

“Okay, passion lily.”

“That’s not a flower, you just made that up.”

“Keep squirming, dove petals, I like the way it makes the light hit your erection.”

Yunho angles the mirror back up towards his face. “We’re still playing, eyes up here.”

“I’d rather play ‘if I was there’. Because if I was there, I could still look you in the eye while I was tonguing your cock.” 

Yunho exhales loudly. It’s his move, but he can’t make the board make sense right now. He’s staring at his two remaining stones on the board and all he can feel is the phantom sensation of Mingi’s hot mouth around his cock, those dark, clever eyes taking in his every reaction.

 _I’m very, very dedicated to doing things right_.

He makes a move, then two, and it’s no surprise when Mingi ambushes him and he’s lost his second to last piece.

And his underwear.

Yunho props the mirror up beside the bed and leans back against the brass frame. He unknots the drawstring and lifts his hips to slide the thin cotton off his ass, down his thighs, taking his time. Mingi’s eyes follow his every movement, drinking him in. He lets one hand fall onto his cock where it leans, almost fully hard now, curving along his stomach. Strokes himself, looking at expressionlessness fighting a losing battle on Mingi’s face.

“If you were here… you could finish that handjob.”

Mingi swallows thickly, watching the leisurely back and forth of Yunho’s hand. “You could finish it yourself. I never got to hear you come, I bet you sound pretty when you come.”

“Make me forfeit, and you’ll find out.”

The view in the mirror shifts to a shaky closeup of the board. Mingi’s hand slides one of his remaining stones into place. “This is my next move. He hesitates, then moves Yunho’s piece as well. “That’s your move. Then my next move. Yours. And, we’re done.” He’s trapped Yunho’s last black stone. 

The mirror flicks up to show his face again. Mingi’s given up on expressionlessness. He looks needy, flushed, like he’s been the one getting kissed all night, getting stroked, getting taken to the edge. 

Yunho reaches for one of the vials of oil he keeps beside the bed. He takes out the stopper and pours some into the palm of his hand, wraps his hand back around himself. The heat and the glide of his palm feel good, so good that his head falls back against the bed frame and he lets out a low hiss between his teeth. “We never finished the game.”

“Not really thinking about petteia right now, Yunho.”

“Not that game.” His hand slips smoothly up and down his length, thumbing over the sensitive tip, oil making obscene squelching noises under his fingers. He starts to quicken the pace a little. “If I was here. It’s your turn. Come on, I’m not gonna last long.” He can already feel the heat coiling in him, muscles tightening as the pleasure builds. 

He hears Mingi swallow convulsively, clear his throat. “If I was there… If I was there… oh fuck, Yunho. I just want to be there. I want that to be my hand on you.”

He slows down a little, loosens his grip, trying to make it last, but the sound of Mingi’s voice, his harsh breathing, is going straight to his painfully hard cock. “Are you touching yourself? Want you to come, too. If I was there, oh, hell, _Mingi_ —” He’s so close already. Can’t think. His breath catches in his throat in a series of rough panting whines.

“Wanna feel you under my hand, take you in my mouth when you come, shaking and messy and wrecked and so, so beautiful…” Mingi’s voice is low and hoarse and it sends him right over the edge. 

Yunho comes hot and hard all over his hand and stomach with a long moaning cry that he doesn’t even try to keep quiet. After, he leans back against the bed frame, trying to catch his breath, hand still moving reflexively on himself, but slowing. He can hear Mingi’s ragged breathing through the mirror. Wonders if he came too, and thinks maybe he did. 

When he finishes cleaning himself up, the mirror is dark. He’s confused for a moment, wondering if Mingi’s gone, but then light shifts in and from the close view of his forehead and eye he realizes that Mingi has just been leaning forward against the mirror. 

“I was right,” he says huskily. “You do sound pretty when you come. Snowdrop.”

Yunho grins, tossing up between embarrassment and pride. Pride wins, even as he feels his face heating up, all the way to the tips of his ears. “Next time we do this for real. You and me, same place, don’t care where it is. Actual touching. Whatever you want, however you want it.” He’s so hungry for it.

Mingi pauses. “I was kinda hoping we could make this a regular thing, till then?” He sounds almost hesitant. “You and me, the mirrors. You don’t have to make me beat you at petteia every time, but that’s kinda fun, too.”

“Mingi.” Just like that, the joy drains right out of him. “I can’t. We can’t do this. I told you, it’s not safe. I shouldn’t even be talking to you tonight.” He’s not sorry, not for tonight, not with the last of his orgasm still sparking through his body - and not with getting to see happy shirtless Mingi in all his eye smiling glory, too much and not enough at the same time - but he’s not about to risk bringing Zeus down on him. 

“There’s nothing Hades can do to me. Yunho, he’s no threat to me, no matter what he’s said.” 

“It’s not Hades I’m scared of, Mingi, it’s Zeus. He threatened to tell Zeus.”

Mingi pulls back from the mirror. Yunho’s left looking at expressionless face #4, a new one for the list. He looks thoughtful, but it’s not like his inventing face. Face #4 is colder, even more distant, features honed sharply like the razor edges on the bolts he crafts.

“Please. I’m sorry.” Yunho might not be sorry he used the mirror tonight, but he’s so utterly sorry that he’s not going to use it again. He touches the mirror frame again, aching deep inside. “Don’t be mad at me.”

Mingi focuses on him, blinks, and expressionless face #4 fades away as a faint smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “Never. I could never be mad at you. I just… wish things were different. I’m willing to risk Zeus, for what it’s worth. But I’m guessing you’re not.”

Yunho drops his head, closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Mingi’s disappointment. “Not if he threatens you. I can’t do that. Don’t ask me to do that.” 

“Then we’ll just have to solve this. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he breathes. So much, already. He opens his eyes again, knowing this is the last chance he’s going to get to see him for a while.

“Good. Okay, I can work with that. The first thing’s cutting you loose from the Underworld.” Echoes of that coldness still lie behind his eyes, but it’s not for Yunho. He can see that now. “Then we deal with Zeus.”

  
  


They’re playing a cut-down version of episkyros, only five-a-side because most of the nymphs are happier lounging around under a gauzy marquee in the heat of the afternoon. Yunho’s just getting in place for a pass when a flash of gold from the front yard distracts him for a moment. Two new figures are standing watching the game, looking out of place amongst the nymphs sprawled on the lawn. One raises a hand in greeting, and the light flashes again; sun on gold metal.

He waits till Dami scores and heads off the field to tap in Wooyoung, who’s been yelling at them all game from behind the line. Two figures, and one’s Yeosang. The other one doesn’t look tall enough for Mingi, but his heart’s pounding faster than it was during the game on the off chance. 

It’s not Mingi, of course. There are so many reasons he shouldn’t be here, hundred year ban included. So that’s good. That’s definitely for the best. 

He’s already feeling less than fresh, wiping his sweaty face on an even sweatier shirt, when he takes in the appearance of the man - the automaton - standing next to Yeosang. At that point he kinda wants to dig himself a sweaty hole and crawl into it to hide. 

Yeosang’s bad enough, immaculate as ever in cream, but his companion is as clean and sharp as ice in a crisp white shirt and dark charcoal suit. He’s tall and slender, silvery-grey against Yeosang’s platinum gold, with ruffled hair the colour of pewter. Despite the cool perfection of his face, his dark eyes are sleepy and kind, full of a quiet good humour. He’s carrying an armful of flowers that look a little bashed around and bruised.

He holds the lopsided bouquet out to Yunho with a smile.

“They got a little battered in transit, I’m sorry. Please try to imagine them in their former glory. When we left the house, they were perfectly shaped.”

“So was your hair.” Yeosang’s eyeing the tufts of dark silvery-grey hair sticking out at wild angles. His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to tame them. “Yunho, this is Seonghwa.”

“It was my first time in an airship,” he says, apologetically. “My first time topside at all, actually. The sky is… a long way up. And larger than it looks from below. I thought it would be more like the ceiling in the garden.”

“He insisted on going out onto the airship balcony, then got too spooked to let go of the railings. He had a grip on me as well, so I had to stay with him.” Yeosang flexes his fingers like he’s checking his arm for dents. 

Seonghwa makes a reassuring gesture, as if worried Yunho will misunderstand. “He talked to me the whole time. He’s nicer than he’s making it sound.”

“I was mostly telling you off.”

“Your voice has a calming effect, even when you’re mocking me. Maybe especially then.” He shoots a sideways smile at Yeosang. “The sweet sounds of home.”

Yunho’s only half listening, because the bouquet is grabbing most of his attention. If flowers have a language, this bunch is yelling at full volume about that one night he’s been doing his best not to think about. The game of strip petteia was over a week ago now, but he’s not likely to forget the finer details any time soon. He touches the flowers in turn; apple blossom, sweetpea, rosebud. Snowdrop, peony, forget-me-not, honeysuckle. 

There are two flowers crafted from metal nestled amongst the others. No prizes for guessing what they have to be, suggestively filthy shapes and all. Passion lily. Dove petals. Only Mingi could make flowers that look like dick jokes into works of art. He looks up, suddenly aware that he’s been zoning out with a stupid grin on his face. 

Yeosang’s gaze flicks away to take in the episkyros game. “If you’ve got a moment to spare, I wanted to let you know where I’m at with the agreement.”

“Sure.” He can’t help the sudden surge of hope that runs through him. Yeosang wouldn’t come all this way just to tell him there’s no news - or bad news. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.”

His room’s messy enough that the automata would probably throw a cog if they set foot inside, but if they go to the shared lounge they’re going to have gossip-crazy nymphs listening in; talking about his wacky half-a-marriage is always good for an eavesdropper or two. In the end, he takes them around to the back porch, because the field behind the house is empty right now. Most of his housemates are still watching the game.

Seonghwa’s immediately delighted by the porch swing and flips his coat tails back to take a seat amongst the flowery cushions. Yeosang rolls his eyes, but he also gives the swing enough of a nudge to set it rocking gently. Seonghwa turns starry eyes on Yunho, as if the whole world is too full of magic to bear. All Yunho can think of is the last use he’s seen that swing put to, but at least he knows the chain’s reinforced and it won’t fall down.

“It’s so good to meet you at last, Yunho.” Seonghwa has his eyes half-closed, swaying in time with the swing. “I’ve heard your voice so much, it feels like I know you already.”

“You’ve heard my voice?” For one awful moment he imagines Seonghwa within earshot of Mingi’s garden during their game of strip petteia.

“He plays your recording a lot, our dear lord and master,” says Yeosang. “And by a lot, I mean he’s wearing grooves in the grooves. And the sweetheart model here likes to sing along.” He gives the swing another soft push when it starts to slow.

“I know I can’t help the plants grow with my voice like you can, I just enjoy the tunes. And the words are pretty.”

“I wish I could come see the garden.” Yunho runs his fingers gently over the stems of the bouquet, sending a little love their way. He’ll get them into water soon. “What about the agreement? Any luck with that?” His voice sounds normal enough, like his heart isn’t beating hard enough to crack a rib or two. But surely Yeosang’s here for a reason.

The gold automaton folds his arms and leans back against the porch pillar. “The bad news is, I haven’t been able to find anything we can use. Hades is arrogant, but he’s just canny enough not to be doing anything we can catch him on. That jewelry he has you wearing comes close, just not close enough.”

And there he is, back where he started. He’d expected as much, honestly, but it doesn’t stop the gloom nudging up close to him like that one old friend you never want to see at a party. Here it is, the familiar feeling of descending darkness that usually holds off until summer’s well underway. Sunny face, Yunho, smiles and pretty flowers. Nobody wants a wet, miserable spring.

“Thanks for looking.” That ‘we’, anything _we_ can use, it’s something to hold against the darkness. There are friends trying to prise him out of this. He meets Seonghwa’s eyes and finds a steady look of compassion there. 

“I’m not finished.” Yeosang permits himself a small smile. “Something else you said got me thinking. That there must be some way to trade your way out.”

“There’s a price for my freedom,” he says, remembering. “I can’t pay it, but he’d let me go, if the price was right.”

“Exactly. So what do you think he might need in order to be willing to part with you? He obviously places a high value on your company.”

Yunho laughs without humour. “He doesn’t value me at all. What he likes is winning the game. Seeing how much he can get away with, without tipping off the other Olympians. My mother, mostly.”

“And this game… he values it?” 

Yeosang’s willingness to treat this like a logical puzzle is actually kind of helpful. It keeps him on track, stops him from dropping into a murderous screaming panic that isn’t going to help anyone. 

“He likes to win. So only something that gives him that feeling, like he’s beating someone - cheating someone out of something - that’s what’s going to work.”

“Good. I think we can work with that.” 

“Is that - do you have something to trade?” The way his heart speeds up again, it’s pitiful. He’s been here before, in the early days, back when he thought his mother had enough tricks up her crafty sleeves to spring him from the Underworld. But autumn always comes around before he’s ready, and the eternally patient ferryman is always waiting on the bank of the Styx, hand out for his coin.

“Perhaps. Let’s try, then I’ll let you know. One way or another.”

“Wait, what do you mean, you’ll let me know? This is my marriage, my agreement. I should be the one making the trade.”

“He’s already told you that you can’t pay the price. Whatever you offer, he’s going to turn it down just to see the look on your face. If you’re there, it’s far less likely to work. On the other hand, Hades has always hated Mingi, so the chance to cheat him of something may be too sweet to pass up. ”

“Mingi’s giving up something? To Hades?” For me? The thought doesn’t sit right.

“Hades needs to think so, yes. Enough to sign a new agreement with us.” Yeosang’s practically glittering with pleasure. “A very carefully crafted agreement. Complete with some very elegant loopholes which I plan to exploit to their fullest.”

“Oh, so you’re conning Hades.” That’s _so_ much better. He sits down next to Seonghwa on the swing, feeling a sudden need to rock back and forth gently. Preferably with his head in his hands.

Yeosang inspects him like he’s aware something is wrong, but he’s not sure what. “If it makes you feel better, Mingi’s doing this for completely selfish reasons. He wants you to be happy.”

“It’s not selfish to want someone else to be happy, Yeosang,” says Seonghwa.

“He only wants Yunho to be happy because it makes him feel good.”

“Okay, but when you bake treats for Cerberus, and he gets so excited his tail knocks half the things in the kitchen on the floor, you’re not doing it so that you can feel good, you’re doing it because you like it that he’s happy.”

“But I want to feel good too.” His amber eyes meet Seonghwa’s dark gaze. “Because I’m selfish. I’m flawed enough that I enjoy making people - and dogs - happy.”

“That’s not actually a flaw.” 

Yunho leans forward to interrupt. “Mingi’s conning _Hades_? The Lord of the Underworld? Do neither of you see a problem with that?”

“I thought you didn’t want Mingi to have to give anything up to him?”

“I don’t! But that’s going to put a target square on his back.” Not just Zeus; Zeus and Hades. Mother of Titans. 

“He can hold his own against Hades. And it’s important to him, sorting this out.” Yeosang bites his lip, like he’s holding back a comment. Then goes ahead, anyway. “You’d know that, if you hadn’t been too busy to talk to him.”

Wait - what? “Too… busy?”

Yeosang shrugs. “Ball games. Parties. Whatever it is that you all do to pass the time around here.” Yunho’s pretty sure he’s not imagining the not-so-subtle insinuation in his tone.

He makes his hand unclench its too-tight grip on the bouquet. “Is that why he said I wasn’t talking to him?”

“He hasn’t said anything about it, one way or another. All I see is that he was happy after he heard from you, but that feeling’s fading, day by day, every day you’re silent.”

“I want to talk to him. He knows that, and he knows why I can’t.”

“He’s also got a history of falling for people who can’t be bothered spending time with him when they’ve got a better offer.” There’s a distinct coolness in Yeosang’s manner, a challenge in his eyes.

Yunho places the bouquet carefully down next to him, because he doesn’t want to damage it and his hands are already clenching, ready to break something. “Is that what he thinks is happening? That I’m not talking to him because my life up here is more important?”

“What do you think, after Aphrodite? All I know is, he deserves someone who’ll put him first.”

“I am putting him first! He’s the one who’s at risk the moment I use that mirror, because Zeus is gonna tear his head off if he finds out about it! Right now Mingi’s only useful to him as long as he’s the jealous monster Zeus can wave at Aphrodite’s admirers to threaten them.” He sees the name Zeus hit home, a small dent in Yeosang’s calm. He didn’t know, Yunho realises. Had no idea where the real threat was from. “You know what _would_ be selfish, Yeosang? Screwing up Mingi’s life just because I want to see him so badly. Tell him I sit there every night with the mirror all the way across the room from me, so I won’t touch that rose on the back.”

Tell him San’s lowkey pissed off at me because I haven’t fucked him or Wooyoung or anyone since I got back. I know Mingi doesn’t care if I do, just that he’s the last one who had his hand on my dick, and it turns out I’m sentimental about stuff like that. 

Yeosang looks scornful. “What, do you think it takes the sting out of the way you’re ignoring him, that you’re doing it out of kindness? It’s cold comfort, Yunho.”

“He’d rather I showed him how little I care by talking to him every night? The hell with the risk?”

“Yes, I think he would, because at least then you’d be treating him like a grown-up who can take care of himself. If he’s willing to wear that risk, who are you to appoint yourself his protector?”

Seonghwa makes an unhappy noise and Yeosang turns on him.

“When Mingi built me, the most important gift he gave me was the power to choose for myself. My autonomy. He doesn’t have the right to make big decisions for me, only I get to do that. Now you’re saying it’s okay to take that same power away from Mingi, that Yunho gets to decide what’s best for him?”

“Yeosang, believe me, I get it,” Yunho says. “He’s so strong and so capable and he can hold his own against any of them. But this is Zeus. It’s _Zeus_.” Just saying the name, it’s like the burn of acid in his throat. He can feel the electric itch of lightning overhead just waiting to fall, the blinding flare before the thunder hits. 

He pulls the bouquet back into his lap, trying to find the words to explain flesh-and-blood fears to a man made out of metal, when Yeosang still looks like he’s waiting to hear a single word that makes sense to him.

“I’ve always made decisions with my heart. I’ve made some great friends that way, but it’s also the reason I ran off with Hades in the first place. I guess what I’m saying is, my heart can be a fucking idiot. This time, I’m trying to think things through. That’s hard for me. It’s not how I work, but I’m trying.”

“So your heart’s telling you what exactly, on this occasion?”

“It doesn’t matter what my heart says, and I need to not be listening to my dick right now either. Both of them… they like him a lot. A whole lot.” He runs a finger down the swollen petals of the passion lily and something in him aches and wants to laugh at the same time. “My brain says he’s in trouble if we talk. It says Zeus can deal him real damage, something that’ll make a hundred year ban look like a timeout in the corner. And he might not like that, and you might call it a lack of faith in him, but I’m just trying to do the right thing for once. So please, Yeosang, help me fix this thing fast, because my brain isn’t used to being the one in charge and it’s kinda tired of holding the fort already.”

For a moment he thinks he’s gotten through to Yeosang. There’s a pause, before the automaton delivers his judgement. “When I look at him, I don’t see you doing the right thing. I see you setting him up to break his heart.”

“Yeosang, that’s enough.” Seonghwa’s voice is quiet but it commands attention. “He’s doing this because he cares. If this meant nothing to him, he’d be acting quite differently. They both care. Which is why you’re going to use that sneaky little brain of yours to find them a way out of this.”

Yeosang regards Seonghwa for a long, cool beat before he turns on Yunho again. “For what it’s worth, I think your brain’s probably right about Zeus. I was built to put my faith in rational thought and I wouldn’t have a clue how to make a decision with either my heart or my dick. Frankly, that whole idea makes no sense to me. But neither of you were there after Aphrodite. He’s not back there yet, but I can see the signs already. He wants you more than he knows what to do with, and he misses you, and if he plays that fucking record one more time I’m going to snap it in half. So one day soon, when your brain’s sick of running the show? Talk to him. Take the risk.” He wheels towards Seonghwa. “I’ll meet you at the airfield. This time we’re riding inside the gondola.”

Yeosang pushes open the back door and lets it slam shut behind him. 

_He wants you more than he knows what to do with._

Seonghwa puts his feet down to stop the rocking of the swing. He looks like he wants to apologise, but there’s also an unspoken plea for understanding in his eyes. And Yunho knows how it is. Yeosang cares about Mingi. They all do. He gets to his feet as Seonghwa rises from the swing. 

“Tell Mingi…” Tell him what? That I got the flowers? That I had to stuff the petteia board down the side of my bed, because looking at it gives me a hard-on? 

That I won’t hold out the week before calling, because my heart’s a persistent asshole and my brain’s already tapping out? 

Seonghwa’s smile is full of gentle warmth. “I’ll tell him that we saw you. That you miss him, and you’re thinking of him.”

Yunho nods. He’s not wrong.

“You’d better go. Yeosang looked impatient.”

“It’s alright. I know he’d never leave me behind.”

“Wish them luck, okay? With Hades.”

When Seonghwa’s gone, Yunho picks up the bouquet again and buries his face in the soft sweetness of the flowers. The dove petals still hold the faintest trace of warmth from whatever Mingi does to make his living metal plants. 

It feels like they’re both totally fucked, and not in a good way. He’s got Hades just waiting for autumn to tick back around again like a spider in his web; Hades, who’s only going to trade Yunho if he can be sure he’s got someone he can hurt better. Zeus, hanging over Mingi like a lightning strike making its way in slow motion, just giving him enough time to appreciate his power and majesty before frying him to a crispy pile of ash.

Balanced against all that doom, he’s got… what? A devious automaton with a savage brain and a surprisingly soft heart. His new companion, who looks like an ice prince and acts like the sweetest and fluffiest of newborn kittens.

A magic mirror, that he may or may not be able to keep secret. And at the other end of the mirror, he’s got Mingi. Mingi, who wants him more than he knows what to do with. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Spring: Bad Dad and Creepy Uncle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw // blood and raw meat, cooking, alcohol
> 
> Also wanted to let people know that this chapter is not particularly kind to Mingi, in case you’re feeling like this is something you’d like to steer clear of right now. Wishing Mingi irl a restful time where he’s well-loved and supported, and to take as long as he needs before coming back to grace us with his all-round amazing self <3 
> 
> So some unbelievable stuff happened between chapters!!! 😭 Two incredibly talented artiny made artworks of Hephaestus!Mingi that made me feel so utterly lucky and blessed, I don’t have the words. Please check out @pinkycelly’s [a rose for you](https://twitter.com/pinkycelly/status/1332473252829159424?s=21%20rel=) and @amusingghost’s [steampunk inventor Mingi](https://twitter.com/amusingghost/status/1333490533436571648?s=21%E2%80%9D%20%20rel=). Thank you both so much, it’s like freaking magic and I love you!!!!!

There’s blood on Hades’ hands when he greets Mingi and the two automata at the door to the mansion. The shades swirl languidly around them as he leans on the door frame, black shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal the delicate spatter of blood up his forearms. There’s even a smear on his cheekbone, dark against his pallor. 

“I’d say welcome, but you’d see through that lie like the genius you are.” He weighs up Mingi and his two companions for a moment. “I suppose you may as well come in.”

He heads back into the depths of the mansion, leaving them to follow. Mingi’s been here before to design the plumbing, but not recently. Not since Yunho. Before, he just kept his head down and got the work done, so caught up in his designs that he didn’t take it all in. Now, it’s like he’s seeing it through new eyes.

Hades is definitely overcompensating for something. 

It’s about as subtle as a sledgehammer, the big, blunt weaponry hanging on the walls, the massive black banners bearing Hades’ insignia. Everything is outsized, designed to make visitors feel as small as possible. Yunho must have rattled around in this place like the last lone piece of popcorn left in an empty bowl… only it’s not exactly empty, either. 

The dead are everywhere, hanging in the air like mist, soft misshapen faces appearing and disappearing at the very edge of his sight. Just enough to make sure you’re never alone, but there’s nobody you can actually talk to. No wonder Yunho only had one happy place here, it’s a fucking mausoleum.

It’s also damp and cold enough to chill him to the bone, except for the fact that he’s burning through a nice stockpile of anger that’s keeping him toasty warm. Seeing nothing of Yunho for almost two weeks, after getting to see a breathtaking, filthy-dream-fueling amount of him for one night only, and knowing that’s all down to Hades? He’s cranky as hell. Could be useful tonight, if Yeosang can just keep him from flattening Hades with one of the stuffed harpy heads on the wall.

He’s considering yanking one down off the wall to bring along - better safe than sorry - when they reach the kitchen at the back of the mansion. No surprise, it’s immense; a sterile, echoing space, all white tiles and glass. There’s a sullen glow from the iron stove along one wall, but it’s not giving off more than a lick of heat. An unidentifiable joint of meat lies on the central butcher’s block, beside a pile of greyish root vegetables.

“You don’t mind if I continue? I was preparing dinner when you arrived.” 

Without waiting for a reply, Hades selects a knife and slides it beneath the matted fur of the joint in one swift slice. He works his way along the joint, separating skin from flesh. 

“I must admit, I’m curious as to what’s brought you here, all uninvited. I haven’t had the chance to commission you lately, what with Apollo and the others bumping me off the list, so it can’t be work-related. We’d happily see each other dead in a ditch before we spent time together socially, so that’s not it.” His brown eyes flick up to meet Mingi’s briefly. “By my reckoning, that only leaves one small thing it could be, dear neighbor.”

He drops the knife to tear the strip of skin off, and drops the wet, bloody mess into the sink. 

“Let me guess, Mingi. You want to ask me for visitation rights to my straying husband. You want that hole opened up again. So to speak.”

Maybe he doesn’t need a stuffed harpy. Maybe all he needs is the biggest cast iron pan hanging on the wall, he could get some good momentum with that sucker. By some complete miracle, he keeps his voice calm. “I want you to set Yunho loose. Entirely.”

“Mmm, reasonable. Sure thing. There’s nothing I value more than enabling true love.” Hades smiles sweetly, wipes another streak of blood across his cheek with the back of his hand. “But presumably you don’t come empty-handed, you and your matching tin salt and pepper shakers here. This isn’t some sort of thuggish demand, it’s a trade. So, what are you offering?”

This was always going to be their weakest link; it all depends on how much Hades wants to humble him. How much he wants bragging rights over the other gods. Whether both of those outweigh his need to do whatever it is he’s doing to Yunho.

“I dedicate my forge to you. I work only for you, whatever you want. Weapons, armour. A new steamship for the Styx. Your own rail line through the Twilight Realm, hell, I don’t care. No queue to jump, no waiting in line.” He lets the way that makes him feel show on his face, lays his own hatred out there like a lure. See, you could be giving me ulcers and a new set of frown lines. Wouldn’t that be fun?

Hades just nods, thoughtful. “Anything I want? Anything at all?”

Beside him, Yeosang stirs. “There would be moral limits, naturally. They’re specified in the agreement.” He holds up the sheaf of papers he’s been crafting for the last couple of days.

“Oh, naturally. But if I wanted you to make, for example, a machine to sculpt the trees into the shape of my face, or an army of iron wolves that could be operated by the ghosts of dead soldiers, you’d do that, and only that? No other projects?”

“That’s the idea.”

Hades picks up another knife and starts to make a series of incisions across the blood-streaked carcass in a criss-cross pattern. “I’ll be honest, your designs are a tad quirky for me, Mingi. Whimsical. When I asked you to design my plumbing, I didn’t expect my baths to have utterly unnecessary paws.” He hits the flat of the knife on the tap in the sink. “Did this need to be shaped like a jolly little fish? I think not. So this deal, you’d let me design your inventions, and only make things to my own specifications?”

“Knock yourself out, be as boring as you like. However you want it, that’s what I’ll make.”

“And there’s a time limit for this, I suppose? This isn’t a very generous offer for the rest of eternity?”

Yeosang fields this one. “The duration we’ve specified is the remainder of Mingi’s exile from Olympus. Fifty three years.”

“And I already know you work fast. I mean, just look at my husband.” Hades pulls out a jar and starts slipping pats of something oily and grittily green into the cuts along the meat with the flat of the blade. Oil slides down the sides to pool underneath the meat. “Presumably you could accomplish a fair amount in that time. So tell me, who pays for materials?

“We propose a split,” answers Yeosang. “We provide all basic labour and materials. Any specialized materials are billed to you on a project by project basis.”

“You’re very fair. He’s very fair, your automaton.” Hades lifts the joint of meat into a large iron roasting pan and reaches for one of the pallid root vegetables. “So you’d be my personal blacksmith. My armourer. My lackey.” He selects a wider, heavier blade and starts to chop the vegetable with a languid precision. “The thought of you, subjugating yourself to me for half a century, it’s sweet, honestly. Makes me a little hard. But I’m surprised, I mean, Yunho’s a delightful piece of ass, sure. But really - half a century? Is he worth it? You’ll get bored after five years. Ten years, tops. He’s pretty, but he’s as shallow as a puddle.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. This is the plan. Let Hades gloat, your anger’s just one more piece of tasty bait, Mingi, let it show. It feels like the heat behind his eye sockets is about to set him on fire from the insides out. “Take it or leave it.” His voice is little more than a growl.

“Oh, really? You’d be happy to walk away today without an agreement? No, I can smell the desperation on you. I don’t think so.” 

Hades slides the cubes of vegetable, all uniformly neat and perfect, into the pan. When he looks up Mingi can almost taste the smug satisfaction radiating off him. Hades has him on his knees before he’s even started bargaining, and he knows it.

“Fifty three years of your labour is not nearly enough to part with my beloved husband. I’d consider _sharing_ him with you for fifty three years, but for exclusive rights I would have to ask for at least five hundred years of labour.” He points the knife at Mingi, with a smile. “And you pay for all materials.”

Yeosang answers swiftly, before Mingi can say anything. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no way.”

“No? Look at your master. The inaudible wailing of a soul in torment? I think that’s the delightful sound of him thinking it over. Here are my suggested terms, Mingi. You agree to give me five hundred years of labour, working only for me and paying for all materials, building whatever I choose to my own design, within your precious bounds of morality, of course. In return, I dissolve my marriage and Yunho is free to go - to you, or to whichever beds he cares to hop into like the happy little bunny he is.”

He fills a pot with water and sets it on the stove. 

“The alternative is, you leave now and spend your time worrying about your own failed marriage, and I ask Zeus for permission to keep my sweet, straying husband here year round, so that he can learn how to be faithful. Five hundred years, Mingi, what do you say?”

He feels the Underworld chill suddenly, cutting him right to the bone. “Can he do that?” he asks Yeosang. “Take Yunho the whole year? I thought the contract protected him from that, as long as he followed the rules?”

“He can’t do it under the terms of the contract, no. It’s very clear.” He can feel the bad news hovering, even before Yeosang continues. It’s in the way the automaton isn’t looking at him, eyes fixed on his papers like he’s searching for a better answer there. “But Zeus can overwrite the contract if he chooses. He created the marriage. If Hades can argue…”

Yeosang falters, and Hades chuckles softly. “Yes, go on, golden boy.”

“If he can argue infidelity. Then yes, as Protector of Oaths, he could do it.” Yeosang finally meets his gaze, and all Mingi can see there is sorrow. “Especially if Zeus is already of a mind to split the two of you up. If it’s in his interests to keep you apart.”

He knows, right then and there, that Hades has threatened Yunho with this too. He’s had that possibility hanging over him all this time, that he could lose the little time above ground that he has now. And if it happens, it’s his fault. Zeus wouldn’t bother getting involved in this, if he wasn’t trying to keep Mingi in play as a jealous threat to Aphrodite’s suitors. 

Hades slams the oven door on the roasting pan. “So there it is, Mingi. How badly do you want him? What’s your final offer?”

He can feel Yeosang willing him to think before he says anything, coolly sympathetic but first and foremost so, so cautious. Next to him, Seonghwa’s smile is more encouraging. He knows exactly what Mingi’s going to do, and he approves. It’s like he knows, deep down, there’s nothing to decide.

“You know there’s a chance that he might not choose to stay with you.” Yeosang already knows that caution’s not going to win out, but he’s trying.

“That’s not the point though, is it?” asks Hades. “It’s not about whether or not he comes to you. It’s about stopping him from coming to me. What’s your offer?”

Mingi meets his eyes squarely. “Five hundred years. All costs paid. And Yunho is free for good.”

“Okay, let me see your terms.” Yeosang hands them over, and Hades flicks through them, leaving bloody fingerprints on the pages as he looks through them. “Impressive. Did you write this up, Mingi?”

“I wrote it,” says Yeosang.

“Truly? Oh, the machines you create, Mingi. You’re a very skillful man. Which is why it’s a crying shame I’m going to have to turn down your kind offer.” He tears the pages neatly down the middle, twists them together into a taper and pulls out his cigarette lighter. 

“Seriously, how do you think Zeus is going to react if I take you off the weapons market for fifty years, let alone five hundred? We enjoy a kind of peace at the moment, and that’s not going to last if I steal his prized blacksmith out from under him.”

Hades lights one end of the papers and starts the gas under the pot. He holds the burning agreement out to light it up, then tosses the charred papers into the sink.

“But that’s not even the real reason I’m turning you down. It’s because you’re just like _him_.” He’s not talking about Zeus anymore. That level of contempt, he can only mean Yunho. “You’re willing to sign away five hundred years to me and you don’t even blink. You’d hate it, and you’d resent me, but there’d be this warm, greasy layer of snug satisfaction because you’d done a good thing and you got to see his happy smile every night and blah blah blah. I’d have to bet on that turning to misery once he’d left you, or you got bored with him, but waiting for that could mean years of tedium.”

Mingi slowly registers the tight pain around his arm. Yeosang’s got a hand on him, applying increasing pressure. Bringing him back into focus.

It’s Seonghwa who reaches past him to turn on the tap, putting out the last smoldering embers of the agreement. “But you’re not done, though, are you? There’s something else. Something Mingi has that you want. I can see it.”

There’s something hungry and oh-so-patient about Hades’ slow smile. Which is when Mingi realises that this has all just been a fun diversion from what Hades is really after. The Underworld version of foreplay, before Hades really gets down to screwing him. There’s a way to get Yunho out, he can feel it — and the price is going to be brutal. It’s going to make five hundred years of soul-crushing boredom look like a picnic date.

Hades crosses his arms and leans back against the kitchen block. He’s enjoying this immensely. “Have you heard the tale of Pygmalion?” 

“The King of Cyprus?” asks Mingi.

“That’s the one. I’m talking about the story of his marriage to the lovely Galatea.”

He’s not big on gossip, but he knows this story because it’s about an artwork. Pygmalion was a sculptor, as well as a king. And Galatea was...

“She was a statue.” He doesn’t like where this is headed, already.

“She was a delightful statue of ivory, his ideal partner. Perfect in every way. And he wanted her so much, and he prayed so hard for her, that your dear wife Aphrodite took pity on him and turned her to flesh. And you know what I’ve always wondered?”

Hades’ eyes glitter like jet. This is it, finally. They’re getting to the heart of what he wants, at last. 

“After her transformation, I wonder what she was like to hold? To touch. To make love to. A statue made flesh, yet still so unyielding and cool. Because the problem with Yunho was that he was always too warm, even with the jewelry you so kindly made for me. For which, many thanks.”

He’s missing something here. “What are you asking for, you want me to make you a _statue_?”

“I had thought of that, I admit. A statue of Yunho for Aphrodite to animate for me, an improved version to offset all the flaws of the original. But that was before you brought your lovely automaton to visit. You’ve already sculpted such perfection. You ask Aphrodite to turn your automaton to flesh and give him to me, and you can have your flower boy.”

Yeosang meets Hades with scorn. “He can’t gift someone to you like that. Not unwilling.”

“Calm down, legal counsel, I don’t want you. You don’t know your place.” He turns to consider Seonghwa, head cocked like a cat watching a bird. “I want him. The cold, quiet one. And he’ll come consenting, I think. He’s been built to be pliable. I can tell.”

“No. No way,” says Mingi, before grabbing at Yeosang to return the favour from earlier, clamping down as hard as he can on the automaton’s arm. Yeosang turns furious, frightened eyes on him, and he can feel the twitch of taut wires under his hand as the automaton forces himself not to use all of his strength to pull away.

Yeosang wills himself calm — Mingi sees a shudder go through him before he relaxes, visibly — and plucks his arm free. He places himself deliberately between Seonghwa and Hades. “Not happening.”

“Wait.” Seonghwa’s voice is as calm as ever, as he rests an elegant silver hand on Yeosang’s shoulder. “You’d free Yunho, if Mingi agrees to sign me over to you?”

Hades’s smile widens. “Why, are you keen?”

“I’d rather be melted down and made into dinnerware. But as you’ve pointed out, it’s important for us to know our place.” He raises one graceful brow at Mingi. “To know what we were made for, and how. And I agree with that, that’s important to remember.”

“Seonghwa.” Yeosang’s voice is a warning, or a plea.

“That’s your name? Pretty. So, Seonghwa, you have a rational mind, I like that.”

Seonghwa barely glances at Hades. “Why bother pretending it’s my mind you’re interested in? I’m a machine, after all. There’s no need to court me. If my master is willing, I will come to you.”

Mingi’s trying to read his face, trying to work out what this is, but Seonghwa’s not giving him anything. Which is weird in itself; he’s usually so expressive. He’s got a plan, though. The automata learn and grow on their own, just like he made them, but there’s no way he’s built someone who’s going to roll over like that for this asshole unless he’s got some sort of crooked endgame planned.

“Actually, master, he’s right. Logically.” Yeosang brushes Seonghwa’s hand off his shoulder and steps away. “All I need to do is write some changes to our original contract. If he’s offering to trade, you should let him.”

Yeosang’s complete indifference is what sells him. Mingi felt the coiled tension when Hades first asked for Seonghwa. Now he’s got this mild air of unconcern, like he’s already waved goodbye and it suits him just fine. 

Hades is looking from one to the other. He’s not exactly suspicious, but Yeosang’s change of heart has set off a small alarm bell or two. “You’ve changed your tune fast.”

Yeosang shrugs. “He’s new. We’ve only just met. It’s easy enough for my dear lord and master to make another, he has the plans.” There’s an almost clinical coldness as he looks at the other automaton. “And this one’s not to my taste anyway. He’s too sweet-tempered. Too kind. Surprisingly emotional, for a machine.”

“You’d prefer someone with a little bite, a little spice, I imagine. So, Seonghwa is too tenderhearted. Yes, I can see that.” 

Yeosang’s laying out bait for Hades. Interesting. Well, maybe he can help. “That’s just because I used Yunho as my prototype.”

“Really? So he’s your _muse_ , now?” But there’s a new light in Hades’ eyes as he regards Seonghwa. Come on, Hades, chow down, it’s feeding time at the zoo. A brand new victim to terrorize, wrapped around the vulnerable, soft heart of an old familiar prey, in a body made of cold steel and silver. Mingi just hopes his automata know what the hell they’re doing.

“Okay,” he says. “Write it up.”

Yeosang nods, approving, just a triumphant twitch at the corner of his mouth to show Mingi he’s done the right thing. Seonghwa looks miserable as he faces Hades, all reluctance and noble courage, like a prince going into exile. Easy, Mingi wants to tell him, don’t oversell it. We’re not out of this yet. Then he sees the hungry look on the lizard lord, the way he’s savouring Seonghwa’s unhappiness like it’s a glass of fine brandy.

“Oh, one more thing,” says Hades, not looking away from the spectacle of Seonghwa’s misery. “Yunho’s mine until the end of summer. My existing agreement with him runs until the first day of autumn. That should give you time to seek out Aphrodite’s help, Mingi. I hear she doesn’t visit you that often, and it’s not as if you can seek her out in Olympus.” 

He turns on the tap and twines his hands together under the water, scrubbing at the blood freckling his arms. 

“It should give you the time you need to prepare for your transformation too, Seonghwa.”

Mingi looks at Yeosang, who shrugs.

Hades’ voice is sharp. “Take it or leave it. He’s yours after the summer, or not at all.”

“Alright. Do it.” 

Yeosang pulls paper and pen from his satchel and clears a space at the butcher’s block to write up the new agreement. 

Hades dries his hands and saunters over to Seonghwa while Yeosang gets started with the papers. “It’ll be a transformation in more ways than one, you know. With Mingi, you’re nothing but a servant. Here, you’ll be my consort. You’ll rule alongside me, an eternal prince of the Twilight Realm.”

“Is that what you told Yunho?” asks Mingi. “That he could rule alongside you? Because you don’t seem like that much of a sharer, to me.”

Hades laughs. “He was never fit to rule here, the gap between us was too wide. He deliberately misled me, Mingi, so be warned. He pretended to be so willing to listen, to be guided, when we first met. It didn’t take very long at all for his true nature to be revealed. I can already tell, Seonghwa, that you will be quite different.”

“Are you so sure you know me? We’ve only just met.”

“Ah, but the reactions of others tell me all I need to know. You invite their protection. They may not value your tenderness, but I’ll happily anticipate the chance to explore it fully.” He holds out his hand towards Seonghwa’s face, hesitates with fingertips almost touching the curve of his cheek. “Are you cool to the touch, like ivory? May I?”

“In autumn,” Seonghwa tells him gently, unmoving. “Only then.”

Hades is staring at him, almost mesmerized. “Tell Aphrodite to leave a little rigidity, a little coolness, Mingi.” His fingers flex in the air beside Seonghwa’s cheek, like he’s having trouble restraining himself from touching. “He’s so still and calm, it’s wonderful. That was the other problem with Yunho, of course. It wasn’t just the heat, it was the energy. Stamina’s all very well, but he was so _loud_.” He’s playful, now, getting his little digs in. The cocky asshole lizard lord Mingi knows and wants to brain with a frying pan. “Do you know, I used to have to fill his mouth to shut him up.”

All Mingi hears is the beautiful sound of the past tense slipping in there, all unnoticed. Yunho’s already free. He’s _free_. They just need to hold on a little longer. He smiles at Hades. “Small portions like that, no wonder he was hungry when he came to visit.”

_I’m talking about the pancakes, Yunho, I swear I’m not having a pissing contest with Hades over dick size._

“We’re done here.” It’s Yeosang, giving him a withering look of scorn. “As discussed, and contingent on Aphrodite’s help.”

Hades takes his time looking through the papers, striking out and rewriting parts of the agreement as he goes. Whatever he’s changing, Yeosang still seems fine with it, so Mingi can only assume that whatever the automata have planned, it’s still safely hidden in the words that remain. 

When Hades is happy with the contract he passes it to Mingi to sign. Yeosang gives him a nod and he writes his name at the bottom, head spinning a little with nerves and relief. This is it. As long as he’s not signing away Seonghwa’s freedom, this is it.

Not that he could sign it away, anyway. It’s not Mingi’s to give, not with the autonomy chip he’s built into Seonghwa - built into both of them. 

His pen stutters on the page. That’s it, that’s the key. That’s how they’re doing it. Hades thinks they’re nothing more than possessions, because that’s how things work in his twisted little world. But they own themselves.

_It’s important for us to know our place. To know what we were made for, and how._

It takes every drop of willpower in his body not to grin at his automata, to calmly finish his signature and pass over the papers like he doesn’t want to applaud their beautiful cunning brains and pull them both into a hug.

Hades signs with a flourish, and throws the pen on top of the papers.

“A word of advice, Mingi? Don’t mistake Yunho’s interest in you for true affection. For a minor god to seduce not only one but two major powers, and they just so happen to be the two most known for their wealthy lifestyles? He’s entranced by shiny things, like a jackdaw. He must have taken one look at your luxury handiwork and started to make plans to snare you.”

Yeah, he was cunning alright. A whole bag of seductive tricks at his disposal, ranging from not being able to eat a pancake without getting half of it stuck to his face, through to wearing a black suit that felt like it was made of cardboard and smelled like damp hellhound. Professional level seduction techniques. Fucking masterclass.

Times like this, he misses seeing him so much it hurts. 

And this assclown thinks he’s the expert on Yunho. Boring, shallow Yunho, the needy gold digger. Fickle, faithless Yunho.

Hades stares at him, disconcerted. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you spent all those years with him, and yet somehow you managed to miss learning a single true thing about him. Idiot.” 

He’s bright, he’s kind, and it’s the simplest things in the world that undo him utterly. Sunshine and honey. Dick jokes. Friendship. The chance to leave something more beautiful than he found it. And in every sense of the word he’s generous; he gives as good as he gets. Better.

“You’re right about one thing, though. He was _always_ way out of your league. You’re better off sticking to statues, you necrophiliac fuck.”

Hades recoils and for a moment he sees a chip in that smug veneer, and he’s fiercely happy. It makes him want to take his little hammer — the one he uses to split tiles — and tap away at that chip until there’s a crack that widens far enough to shatter Hades into a million tiny pieces. 

And he’s going to. Once Yunho is free and Seonghwa is safe and they can all walk away from this asshole intact. 

He’s going to break him entirely.

  
  
  
San’s right; he’s changed. The nightly party’s raging downstairs and Yunho’s holed up in his room, sweaters stuffed along the bottom of the door to block the noise, reading a _book_. Trying to read it, anyway. It’s a petteia playbook he dug out of Hecate’s makeshift library shelf, because he figures he needs the help, for next time.

 _Next time._ Small words, sitting large in his head and rapidly buying up all his mental real estate right now. The mirror’s across the room, propped up against a vase of forsythia, just waiting for him to crumble like a meringue. _Next time_ might be soon. Might be tonight, even. Especially with the accusation that’s been playing in his ears over and over, since the two automata visited.

_You’re just setting him up to break his heart._

Nobody does stern disappointment quite like Yeosang; not even his mother, and she’s been the reigning queen of that particular cursed artform all his life. The automaton’s got her beat, hands down.

Yunho sighs and focuses his eyes back on the page in front of him. This book isn’t making any sense. Hecate’s scribbled notes in the margins aren’t helping, either. What he really needs is for someone to read it to him.

Someone who knows petteia, someone whose lap he can lay his head in while they read. Someone who’ll play with his hair, maybe, while he pretends to listen.

He chucks the already battered book to the end of the bed. Not helping. Maybe if he has a beer or two. One of two things’ll happen, at that stage. Either he’ll forget about how he’s hurting Mingi by not talking to him, or he’ll get so reckless that he’ll use the mirror. Either sounds good about now. 

When he gets downstairs they’ve turned off all the lights and lit some of Hecate’s neverending stash of candles. There’s a raucous singalong happening by the piano, show tunes competing with the jazz on the gramophone out on the front porch. He accepts a few hugs, returns a few friendly kisses, and wanders out back to the kitchen to look for a cold beer.

Some of the nymphs have pulled the two big kitchen tables together and draped them with blankets. From the shrieks of laughter and the telltale sounds of the bottle scraping the tiles, they’re playing some sort of kissing game under there. 

Wooyoung’s at the stove frying up something fragrant in a pan, spatula in one hand, full glass in the other. He takes a mouthful, pours some of his drink into the pan, recoiling from the resulting sizzle and snap of flame. There’s so much chilli hanging in the air that Yunho can feel it burn in his nose. Yeah, Woo’s drunk-cooking again. One of Hecate’s sleek black hounds lies underfoot, just waiting to get lucky with whatever drops on the floor. She pricks up her ears at his approach and he rubs her bony head.

“Yunho! Bash these for me?” Wooyoung rummages in the big drawer that seems to hold every kind of utensil, pulls out a rolling pin and passes it to him along with a paper bag of dried corn chips. 

“What are we making?” Yunho asks around a mouthful of chips.

“No eating! Bashing only! And I dunno what it is, when it’s done we can give it a name.” He reaches around on the bench, growls in annoyance, flips up the blankets on the fort. “Which one of you assholes took my cheese?”

He shaves what’s left of the block of cheese into another pan, bubbling away with some kind of sauce. Wooyoung with a knife is kind of worrying, but there’s a loose grace to his movements, like he’s done this so much he could probably do it in his sleep. Drunk-cooking Woo is like the skillful but scary offspring of a master chef and a master poisoner. Whatever he’s making could honestly go either way. 

Yunho lays out the bag of corn chips and hits it with the rolling pin, carefully at first and then with increasing force. It turns out that there’s something satisfying about whacking stuff until it breaks, who knew? Maybe next winter he can try it out on Hades’ creepy collection of zombie-ballerina figurines, turn them into a pile of the powdered undead. Maybe take something bigger than a rolling pin to the smirking shark-dolphins on the fountain.Wooyoung’s watching him with interest, absently stirring at the sauce. “You know, you used to be sad when you came back. Now it’s kinda like you’re angry.”

“Yeah, I’m over it. Over being sad.” Thump. “Over getting stuff taken off me because it makes me happy.” Thump. “I’m over not getting my ass handed to me at strip petteia every night!” 

Woo reaches out and plucks the rolling pin from his hand. “Okay, barbarian, I need small pieces, not corn dust. Also, _strip petteia_?”

He grins despite himself. He’s over being angry, too. It’s boring. “Don’t ask.”

“You know I’m gonna. Sounds fun. Can you teach me?”

“I didn’t think you liked petteia?”

“You put strip in front of anything, it immediately sounds like my kind of thing. Anyway, sounds like losing is the fun part.”

He can feel his face heating up at the memory. The noises the nymphs are making under the table aren’t helping.

“Anyway, I think it’s good you’re angry. You know why? Because it means the end’s in sight. It’s because you can feel freedom.” He holds out a dented soup ladle. “Also, you need to stir the meat, okay?”

Yunho pushes it around the pan carefully, not sure exactly what he’s supposed to be doing with it. This close, the chili hits like a cannonball but he can smell cinnamon in there too, and cumin, and half a dozen other things Woo probably doesn’t even remember adding. He looks closer. Are those… mandarin segments?

“I’m so happy you’re back. It’s gonna be so good when you’re free.” Wooyoung’s voice is getting wobbly and for a moment he wonders if it’s the chili getting to him, too. He’s sniffling, and his eyes look watery. Yunho gives the meat sauce one last poke and drops the spoon as Wooyoung throws his arms around him in a tight hug. “I hate knowing you’re down there all alone half the year.”

“Woo, the knife. Woo?” He can feel the blade, pressing up cold against his collarbone.

“Oh, shit! Sorry.” Woo tosses it onto the bench and wipes at his face with his sleeve. Oh. He’s crying. 

“You know I wanted to fucking _stab_ Hades for you.” The kohl around his eyes is smeared and he looks miserable. “No, I totally mean it. San had to take the knives off me for a month. That first time you came back for the summer. We just didn’t know what to do, you were so sad. And now after all that shit he’s put you through, you’re finally gonna get out.”

Yunho cups his hands around Woo’s face and brushes away the black-streaked tears with his thumbs. “I hope so, yeah, but we don’t know that. Not yet.”

“Shut up, it’s gonna happen. You gotta think positive. Make it happen with your brain. Will the universe to give it to you, you know how that works?”

“Yeah, but if it doesn’t?” He doesn’t want to freak Wooyoung out any more than he already is, but he’s been here before. Taking on the hope is like downing a shot of pure pain, if it doesn’t work out. 

Woo rests his forehead against Yunho’s. “It will. It has to. And I’m gonna be the first one to give Mingi a big old french kiss when it happens. Or what’s his currency? I can cook him a fancy meal? Back massage? Blowjobs?”

Yunho tries to imagine Woo with Mingi and comes up blank. Blank, and actually really curious.

“You know, San wishes it was him.”

“With Mingi?” Blank, curious and horny. Sweet Gaea.

“No, _saving_ you, idiot. He wants so badly to be the one to get you out. He’s not like me, he’s smart. Back then, I was running around dicking with knives, but he went straight to Zeus. Straight to the Bad Dad himself.”

“What, when?”

“Back at the start. He had this idea that he could get you out of it.”

There’s a lump in Yunho’s throat all of a sudden. “What happened?”

“What do you think? Zeus fucking laughed at him. Wouldn’t even listen. Threatened to drop him off Olympus if he ever came back.” Wooyoung rubs at his eyes and wipes the streaks of kohl off along his trousers. “San’s so, so happy you’re getting out, but he’s so mad at himself too, that he couldn’t figure out how to help you, that you had to find someone else to do it. You know how he is. He’s such an asshole to himself.”

Yunho kisses his forehead. “And that’s your job.”

“Damn straight, that’s my job. Full-time job. He needs to back off and let me do my work. It’s no fun kicking him when he’s already down.”

“Is that why he’s been a bit weird with me, lately? Kinda quiet? Like he’s avoiding me?”

“Yeah, probably.” Wooyoung looks a little guilty. “He made me promise not to say anything, but yeah. Seriously, screw that guy and his suffering in silence. It doesn’t help anyone.”

“I’m such an idiot.” Yunho laughs, shakily. “I thought he was pissed I wasn’t putting out.”

Woo sniggers. “You’re good, but you’re not that good. It’s not like he’s missing out. He’s still got me, and I’m fucking extraordinary.”

Yunho checks for a knife before ducking in to kiss him. Woo tastes like rum and something else, something sweet. He snuggles up against Yunho’s chest with a soft sigh. “I was lying, you _are_ that good. But it’s okay, we can wait. It’s just good having you here.”

Close up, he smells like spices and smoke. Or no, the smoke… “Woo, I think something’s burning.”

“Shit!” There’s a moment where he sees Wooyoung about to throw his drink on the flaming beef to put it out, before putting it to one side and tugging the whole pan into the sink. “It’s good! It’ll be good. Chargrilled. Nobody’ll know any different.”

“I’m going to let you concentrate on what you’re doing, go see if I can find San, okay?” He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to him, but he’ll figure it out when he sees him. “Are you going to be alright in here?” 

Wooyoung spreads his arms with a confident snort to encompass the whole kitchen, knives and fire and trip hazard dog and all. “Just come back when the magic’s done, okay? Feast coming up in, maybe an hour? And, um, about what I told you —”

“Yeah, I won’t say you said anything.”

Woo’s cheeky smile is almost back to normal blinding strength, just a hint of a quiver around the edges. “Love ya, Yunho.”

“Love you too, master chef.” He steals one last corn chip that has somehow miraculously escaped the carnage, and leaves him to work his magic.

When he finally tracks San down, he’s alone in the old games room practicing billiards in the near dark, one solitary lamp casting long shadows across the table. Music drifts in faintly from the party, swirling jazz from the gramophone turned thin and reedy with distance. Yunho watches San move around the table, cue in hand and sleeves rolled up, the smooth muscles in his forearms flexing as he takes his shots. There’s nothing but calm concentration on his face as he studies the table. He doesn’t look at Yunho.

“I didn’t think you were coming down tonight. Thought maybe you were talking to mirror boy.”

Yunho leans on the doorframe, uncertain of his welcome. “Not yet. I’m still trying to hold off.”

It’s easier to deal with the faint spikiness in San’s tone, now that he knows that the tension between them isn’t about his weird sex ban. Or mostly not that. It still kinda feels like that, no matter what Wooyoung says.

San pulls a second cue from the wall rack. “Got time for a game?” 

“Sure.” He’s not bad at billiards, good enough to beat San when he’s been practicing, but he hasn’t played in a while. San’s not the best technically, nowhere near as good as he wants to be, but he’s got a confidence that makes him look better than he is. Nine times out of ten he can psych Yunho out just by looking like he’s winning, even if he’s not. San tosses him the cue with a smirk, but it feels like it’s rote. His heart’s not in it.

Yunho fetches the chalk. “What’re we betting?”

Something about San tends to wake up his competitive side, so they usually play for a wager. The last game they played — oh. Yeah. That last game. 

San’s looking over at him with burning eyes, all attention at last, and he feels the breath leave him in a rush. It was their last game of the summer, just before he had to leave. The mood was serious — too serious — so he’d come up with something to lighten it up, a friendly wager with a bit more spice than usual. He still remembers the look on San’s face when he suggested it; playing to see who got railed over the billiards table late that night, when everyone else was sleeping.

He feels it again for a hot second, San underneath him, pressed up against the table, fingers scrabbling on the green baize, the sound of his muffled gasps as he tried so very hard not to make a noise. Their helpless giggles in the middle of it all when they knocked the net of balls loose and they scattered across the floor. The high-pitched, near-breathless whine of complaint from San when he joked about stopping to pick them up.

Okay, if he wasn’t guilty before, he is now. The air’s so thick between them he can just about bounce it off the back cushion on the table with his cue. It’s the way San’s just staring at him, clearly remembering the same night. He’s screwed up, made a mistake. For a moment he’s back in the Underworld, waiting for the scorn to strip him to the bone. Anticipating the pointed comment, the accusation, curling in on himself already in protection.

Instead, San’s eyebrows raise slowly, and one corner of his mouth slides up in a helpless, crooked smile. “I don’t know, Yuyu, what _are_ we betting?”

Yunho takes one step towards him, hesitating, then throws the cue towards the couch and crosses the room in a couple of steps. He takes San’s face in both his hands, tilts it up to kiss the corner of his mouth, pressing his lips hard against the sharp edge of San’s smile. He wants to thank him for not being Hades, but of course he’s not, and he never could be. He’s San. He’s worlds better in every way.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, “I know I’m being a dick, I hate it when things are weird between us. I’ll come back properly soon, I promise. I just want…”

San’s lips part under his and his tongue is in Yunho’s mouth, breath hot on his, and even if he could talk right now whatever he was going to say has just flown out the window. Lucky for him, San’s better at staying on track.

“You want to get out of jail first. I know. And you want him, too. Mingi.” Yunho makes a noise of protest — not that it’s not true — but San shushes him. “I’m not jealous. I’m mostly not jealous,” he amends. “It’d be pretty shitty to be jealous. You’re alone half the year, or worse than alone, and I’m here with Woo.” One hand comes up to push back Yunho’s overlong bangs. His smile’s so fond, eyes like stars. “You deserve to be loved year round. I'm happy you found him, it’s okay.” He kisses Yunho again, soft and sweet and lingering. “I think maybe he needs you, too.”

Yunho hums. “How do you mean?”

“I did some checking on him. Asked around.” San talks to everyone, makes friends everywhere, hears all the stories. He’s even better at ferreting out gossip than Wooyoung, when he wants to be. He’s at least got the grace to look a little guilty at Yunho’s reaction. “What, I’m going to let you make the same mistake twice, with another Olympian? Gotta check out the man who’s got you looking like that, make sure he’s worthy.”

“You couldn’t just trust me this time?” You don’t think I’ve learned my lesson?

“Don’t you want to hear what I found out?”

It just feels wrong, listening to gossip about Mingi. He knows what people said about him when he followed Hades to the Underworld, and it wasn’t kind. “How about I let Mingi tell me, if he wants me to know.”

San shrugs. “It’s all common knowledge, what I heard. Just that he doesn’t have a happy history, when it comes to connecting with people. Did you know Zeus threw him off Olympus when he was just a kid, for a start? Like physically picked him up and threw him over the side.”

Wait, he has heard something about that. “I thought that was Hera?”

“I hear both stories, and I know which one I believe.” Bad Dad. Literally the worst dad ever. “So he gets dropkicked off a mountain, and the fall’s hard enough to bust up his leg for good. Then Zeus gets pissed with him, and bans him from coming to Olympus for a hundred years. Now he’s stuck underground, and his only neighbor for miles is your sweetheart of a husband. ”

His heart’s already hurting, but San isn’t finished.

“Did you know, since then, Aphrodite’s the only one who’s even visited him under Aetna? And she only drops by once in a blue moon. They send in their orders and they’re happy enough to take what he makes, but nobody talks to him. Everyone says he’s self-sufficient, sure. But he’s living his whole life down there in solitary confinement.”

 _Hey, apple blossom._ The soft look on his face when Yunho finally used the mirror, in amongst the tipsy happiness… the faintest edge of surprise. Mingi hadn’t expected him to use it. He hadn’t expected to hear from him at all.

Yunho closes his eyes.

San strokes his arm, hand moving up and down in reassurance. “So yeah, I’m happy you found him. Happy for both of you. And if he gets you out, I owe him bigtime.”

Yunho smiles, despite himself. “That’s what Woo said too.” Although he offered blowjobs.

San’s hand stills its stroking. “You saw Woo? What, just now?”

“Yeah, he’s busy burning the kitchen down, making some genius gourmet dinner for us all.”

When he opens his eyes, San’s looking uncharacteristically cautious.“How was he?”

“Well, there’s a chance he’s gonna cut off a finger, or poison us all.” San smiles, clearly humouring him, but his eyes are worried. “Wait, what do you mean, how was he?”

Because he was crying, that was how he was. Yunho had thought it was just the drink making him weepier than usual, but maybe not. 

“He’s been going through it, lately,” says San. “You know Woo, he’s not so good at waiting.”

“Oh Gaea, I’m sorry, I _know_ it’s stupid, I just want to make everything okay first, I miss being with you both too —”

“What? No, Yunho! Yeah you’re stupid, I didn’t mean waiting for you to give in and fuck him. What the hell. I meant — just, it feels like you’re almost out. Free. And the waiting’s hard.”

He can’t help himself. “Yeah, you reckon?”

“I _know_ it’s hardest on you, I’m not blind. But Woo — he blames himself, okay? He thinks it’s his fault, you hooking up with the Creepy Uncle.”

“Okay, I’m confused.”

“That’s what he calls him. Hades. If Zeus is Bad Dad...”

“No, I get that. It’s gross, but I get it. I mean, how does he think it’s his fault?”

San sighs. “Do you remember what you were like, when you first met Hades? He was so smart, he was so _funny,_ you had no chance at all, how would he even look twice at you?”

That first day, in the garden, the way he’d talked, it had blown him away. Hades was so clever and bitchy, and he had shit on everyone, even Zeus. Being with him, listening to him, it was like being on the inside of every joke. How had he been so _stupid_?

“Apparently, Woo gave you some sort of pep talk? That’s what he remembers. Stood you in front of a mirror, made you look at your godly self. Talked you up until you were brave enough to give it a shot, and told you to go get your man.”

Yunho’s waiting, but San’s just looking at him. “What, and that’s it?”

“Without him, it would have just been one more stupid crush that died a natural death.”

“He made me feel good about myself! I love Woo, he’s my best friend, just like you, and he didn’t do anything wrong. Anything at all.”

San’s voice is small. “He just thinks… maybe he could have done things differently. And you’d be free now. And happy.”

This isn’t just about Wooyoung anymore. He wants to wrap San in his arms and squeeze all the stupid out of him. 

“Okay, first, I don’t care what you say. Hades is all on me. I went to the Underworld with him, nobody twisted my arm. Yeah, Woo helped me get brave enough, but I went because I wanted to. Because I thought he was amazing.”

And by the time he realised that Hades’ bitchy jokes were just a sign of him being an asshole who hated everyone, it was too late, and he’d eaten the pomegranate seeds. It should have tipped him off that Hades liked him best whenever he screwed up, and he could treat Yunho like the punchline to one of his nastier jokes. He shakes himself loose of the memories and goes on.

“Second, I was basically screwed once Zeus got involved. You know he was pushing Hades for the marriage, right? Ma never said for sure, but I think this whole deal was just a way to punish her for something. It was never about me, anyway. I know everyone tried to help get me out of it, Ma and —” don’t say San, you’re not supposed to know that —“everyone. But it’s Zeus. You can’t fight Zeus.”

Yeah, he’s just no good at hiding things, and he sees San registering that pause, recognize what Yunho’s not saying. He’s smart like that, doesn’t miss a thing. “So… I’m guessing Woo told you I went to see him, huh.”

He leans back on the billiards table, head down, looking smaller than ever. “Yunho, I’m so so sorry. You came back that first spring so fucked up, and I just wanted to make sure you never had to go back. I wanted to help you _so_ bad. I went to see Zeus, and... he thought it was the funniest thing ever.”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, there’s nothing you could have done.” He rubs San’s shoulder, trying to get him to look up. When he finally does, his eyes are hot with shame.

“That’s the thing, though. I could have. I maybe could have. I dug and I dug and I asked around and I found out a secret I could use against him. It’s something he’d never in a million years want Hera to know, and I thought I was so smart, taking it to him. But he _laughed_ , Yunho. And then he threatened Woo. He fucking threatened Woo.”

Yunho goes still. “What do you mean?”

“He said he’d spent time here in one of his asshole disguises, and he’d taken a fancy to Wooyoung. Said he’d been thinking of bringing him to Olympus as his new cupbearer.” Anger threads bright through his voice, but there’s horror in his eyes, too, at the memory. “Wouldn’t it be _nice_ for Wooyoung if he gave him an opportunity like that. Made him feel special, treated him like he should be treated.”

Yunho folds him into a hug and holds him tight, feeling him shake. “I couldn’t, Yunho. I couldn’t risk him. Because he’s right, you know what it’s like. Nymphs go missing, we get taken all the time on a whim. Turned into sea foam if we turn them down, voices stolen, whatever they want.” He pulls away, fresh determination on his face. “That’s why I get that you’re not talking to Mingi. It’s one thing when Zeus threatens you, but when he threatens the people you love? You know you’re letting them down, but the important thing is you’re keeping them safe.”

“San,” says Yunho, “you did the right thing. You know that, right? If anything had happened to Woo because of me, I would have just given up and stayed in the Underworld. I couldn’t have come back and faced you, not after that. You did the right thing.”

But as sure as he is that San made the right choice, there’s something else he’s sure of, now.

“I don’t think _I’m_ doing the right thing, though, not talking to Mingi.”

“What do you mean? You’re making sure he’s safe from Zeus, right?”

“Yeah, but you said it yourself. Zeus has been screwing with him, hurting him, his whole life. Taking away all his chances to be happy. Sannie, he’s got this beautiful, brainy head full of ideas for inventions that are so pretty they’ll take your breath away. And they’re locking him away down there to make _weapons_.”

Even with everything they’ve done to him, he still has enough heart left to make bronze roses and baths with paws and machines that can catch sunlight. Making crazy miracles like Yeosang and Seonghwa. And the dick joke flowers, can’t forget the dick joke flowers. Yunho’s got them growing in a planter box on his windowsill. 

“I know what it’s like to have someone picking over your life and stealing away everything that makes it worth living. It kills you piece by piece. And I don’t want them turning me into one more thing that could maybe help make him happy —” _he wants you more than he knows what to do with_ “— that he’s not allowed near.” 

The thought of making Mingi smile like he did that night they played petteia? It makes him a little lightheaded, how badly he wants that. His brain’s waving a white flag and surrendering, and he can’t even pretend to feel sad about it. “He’s an Olympian. Maybe… that’s enough to keep him safe.”

“Yeah, but what’s keeping you safe?” San’s still not quite done beating himself up. “I mean, we both know it’s not me, right?”

“You don’t have to keep me safe. You keep me sane. No, listen.” He shakes San by the shoulders, trying to wrestle some sense back into him. His dick and his heart are back in charge where they belong, and he feels a million times better for it. Lighter. Braver. “I wouldn’t even be here still if it wasn’t for you and Woo, fixing me up every spring. I love you both so much. And... I think I’m gonna go talk to Mingi.”

San lets himself be manhandled, recovers enough to shoot Yunho a sly grin. “You should ask him if he plays billiards.”

Yunho blinks at the images that conjures up, the wagers they could make. _Keep squirming, dove petals._ “Oh, I truly hope so.” 

“I’m gonna go stop Woo from burning the kitchen down.” San lifts up to kiss him on the cheek. He thinks he hears a quietly whispered _thank you_ , but it’s too soft to be sure.

“Tell him to save some of whatever he’s making for me, okay? I’ll be down later.”

He’s humming the songs for the wildflowers as he hits the stairs, taking them three at a time in his hurry to get back to the room. It’s only when he gets close that he sees that his door is already open.

 _Nymphs_. He loves them, but they have literally zero boundaries. He pushes open the door, expecting to have to evict a heaving mound of semi-naked bodies from his bed, but it’s not nymphs, after all.

It’s him. Yunho. Sitting at the table, mirror in hand, watching him with a face all blur and shadows as he comes in.

“Close the door, son. We need to talk.”

And oh, he knows that voice. 

He reaches behind him and pushes the door shut blindly, feeling the kind of numbness that hits just before the screaming panic makes itself felt. Drops to his knees the moment the door’s closed, because that’s what you do when you’re in his presence, Zeus Olympios, Wide-seeing Zeus, Father of the Bright Lightning. He’s big on the formalities.

It only adds to the cold lurch of fear and dislocation in his stomach that he’s basically looking at himself; the familiar size and shape of his own body wearing his favourite orange and pink shirt, the one Woo picked out for him at the markets last summer. The way his blonde hair’s getting overly long and starting to curl into his eyes, the glint of a chain from his earrings catching the light. 

But the face — there’s something about Zeus that’s almost too much to look at, directly. His brain can’t do it. Instead, he gets the visual equivalent of the droning buzz he feels when he leans his head against the window of the airship. There are eyes there, dark as pits, but he can’t so much see them as _feel_ them catching on him like hooks. A sensation of watchfulness, so razor sharp that it’s painful.

“Please,” he says, not even sure what he’s asking for. It’s the mirror in Zeus’ hand, the shape he’s wearing. The numbness is wearing off fast, and his heart is beating so fast it hurts. “Just, please.” Don’t, is what he wants to say. But if he’s learned one thing from Hades, it’s that they aren’t fond of being told _don’t_ , the Olympians.

“Get up, son. Take a seat.” He indicates the bed, waits with infinite patience as Yunho gets haltingly to his feet and sits down where he’s told. His legs are shaking. 

“I’ve brought news for you.” Zeus’ voice is shifting as he speaks. Every time Yunho’s features flicker across his face his voice changes to match, but there’s a dead flatness to it; even when he sounds like Yunho, he sounds wrong. Dangerous. “My brother has agreed to release you from your marriage, when your agreement’s up for renewal at the end of summer.”

The news hits him at a distance, like he’s hearing it from deep under ice. He’s free, as good as, but he knows how this goes — there’s a price to be paid. And he can’t get past the shape of his own body with the mirror glinting through his fingers, and what it might mean.

“Why?” What’s the cost? is his real question. And who’s paying it for him — is it Mingi?

“Hades has taken a liking to one of my son’s creations. A living statue of some kind, a man made of silver. He’s agreed to release you, in exchange.”

Seonghwa? He has to mean Seonghwa. Oh Gaea, they’re giving _Seonghwa_ to Hades? He sees the automaton’s sweet smile turned up towards the sky, enjoying the gentle rocking of the porch swing. They must have a plan, they have to have a plan.

“Once you’re free, you become something of a problem for me.” Zeus holds up the mirror, studies the buzzing ebb and flow of his face in the glass. “Dallying with my son, tempting him away from the marriage I’ve arranged for him.” The replica of his own face snaps into focus suddenly, unsmiling, sour. “You’re so very close to being turned into a little yellow meadow flower with a tragic backstory, sunshine.”

 _Sunshine_. Sour acid rises into his throat and he swallows it back down as best he can. Hearing the endearment in his own voice, with that undertone of violence cut through it, it makes his skin crawl. It’s only ever San who calls him that, usually with a playful tug on his hair. So Zeus really has been spending time here, at least enough to overhear them. 

Or, here’s a thought. Maybe when he’s thought he’s been talking to San, touching San... he hasn’t. 

“Fortunately for you, your mother has vouched for your obedience, so here’s how we’ll do this. You’ll go on your way come autumn, free as a skylark, but you’ll cut all ties to my son. Now. While I’m here.” He taps the mirror with one knuckle. “Did you think I wouldn’t find these? The aether your conversations travel on is mine, son. There are no secrets from me. Not when my own flesh and blood are involved.”

“Don’t make me hurt him.” He hears the _don’t_ slip out before he can stop himself.

“If you hadn’t thrown yourself in his path like a needy little piece of baggage, we wouldn’t have reached this point, son. It ends here. It’s nobody’s fault but yours that he’s gotten attached. Now there’s no choice but to make it a bad break. We’ll make it swift, but I’m sorry to say that it won’t be painless.” There’s a serenity in his tone, like he’s discussing a grocery list.

“Just take the mirror, I won’t talk to him, I promise. I won’t talk to him.”

“We’ve gone too far beyond that, son. He’d find another way to contact you, and I won’t have that. But he’s my boy, and I know how to make sure he’s not likely to reach out to you again.” His own face smiles at him, eyes cold crescents devoid of good humour. “I can see you’re not in the right headspace to make this plausible, so I’ll help. How does it work, Yunho? The mirror.”

He shakes his head, _no_ , but Zeus is unmoved.

“If the notion of becoming a wildflower doesn’t deter you, consider what I might do to him, if I can’t find a simple method for separating you. I broke him once. Do you think I wouldn’t do it again? How does it work?”

He closes his eyes, bites down on his lips to try and stop the trembling. “Touch the rose. On the back.”

Zeus holds a warning finger up to the indistinct darkness of his mouth — keep quiet. He’s wearing the silver ring that Hecate gave Yunho for his birthday, long ago. His face shimmers like heat haze, settles. Looks at him with his own bright eyes and harmless smile, like he’s not about to commit violence.

Yunho feels the tears start to escape and takes a silent, shuddering breath in, hand clamped over his mouth for silence. 

Zeus holds a finger against the mirror’s back and as the glass comes to life his face lights up with goodwill, like the throwing of a switch.

“You did it, I can’t believe you did it! Mingi, you’re officially my best friend ever!” He sounds so fiercely _happy_ , like all the weight in the world’s been lifted off his shoulders. Just the slightest slur, like he’s been drinking, partying with the nymphs. Celebrations all round.

“ _We_ did it.” He can hear the smile in Mingi’s voice from here. “Well, Yeosang did it. And Seonghwa, he was the one you really need to thank. How’d you hear so fast? I was going to try and get a message to you, I know you don’t want to risk the mirrors.”

“Hades wanted to let me know I’ve been replaced. Maybe he thought I’d be jealous? But it’s Seonghwa, after all. Can’t compete with perfection.”

“Ah, you do alright, snowdrop. You’ve got your own imperfect charms. Saw a few of them the other night.”

He sounds so fond, so happy. Yunho bites down on his finger, hard, to keep from making a noise. 

Zeus’ hand twirls by his side, out of view of the mirror, and there’s a burst of noise, as if the door to his room has opened and people are whispering to him from the doorway. He glances sideways with a grin, making tiny shushing motions to the imaginary visitors. 

“Yes, I’m still talking to him! Come back later, I just have to say thanks.”

He turns back to the mirror with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, we were just celebrating. Everyone’s so happy I’m going to be back for good, at last. You’ve made a lot of nymphs very happy. Probably going to get a lot of birthday cards this year!” His own face, his stupid goofy smile, he’s never hated it the way he does now. “But I’m not free till autumn though, he said? He’s still got me till then?”

“If we could have sprung you now, believe me, we would have. Sorry, peony, but he insisted.”

“You tried though, right? That’s the main thing. I had this feeling about you when we met, like I knew you could help me find a way out of this. I still can’t believe you did it. I don’t really know how to tell you how grateful I am.” He’s still smiling, but there’s something just the slightest bit insincere creeping in. “I really want to come and see you, when it’s all over. I like you a lot and you’ve done so much for me.” His smile falters a little, comes back wavering. “You might have to give me some time though, okay? It’s just, coming back down there, being near him again...”

“Yunho, stop. It’s okay. It’s alright. I understand. I wouldn’t be down here if I didn’t have to be, either. And you don’t owe me anything.”

“Thanks, Mingi. It’s not that I don’t want to, I do want to come see you, but my memories of that place… let’s just say they’re going to be haunting my dreams. I mean, you know what it’s like. I don’t want to go anywhere near there for a while, if I don’t have to.” He winces, apologetic. “I’m so sorry, but I’m glad you understand. Yeah, um, also. While I’m sounding like an ungrateful asshole, there’s something else. It’s not easy to ask, and I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important. It’s the mirrors.”

“We don’t have to use them. I told you, it’s fine.”

“It’s not just that. It’s just, now the end’s in sight, what if he finds out about them? Hades, or — or maybe even Zeus? What if they change their minds about the agreement? The mirrors, they’re still a connection between us, right? I was thinking. I know it’s hard, I love that you made them. We had so much fun with them. But I think we need to get rid of them.”

There’s a pause before Mingi replies, and when he does, his voice is uncertain. “How do you mean, get rid of them? Like, hide them?”

“Yeah, but what if someone finds them?” Zeus takes a deep breath like he’s suggesting something brave and terrible. “No, I meant… sorry, Mingi, I think we need to break them. I’m so sorry, they’re so lovely and you were so smart to come up with them. It’s just — I’m finally close to being free again, after all these years.” He laughs awkwardly, but his eyes are pleading. “I know you don’t want people interrupting you, talking to you when you’re trying to make stuff, anyway. It’s not like we were going to use them.”

“You want to break the mirrors?” Mingi’s voice is so soft, and pitched a little higher than usual. He sounds oddly young.

“I don’t _want_ to, I just think it’s best. Look, if anything happens to stop this going ahead, then everything you’ve done is for nothing.” Zeus drops his head, seemingly defeated. “Mingi, please. I can’t survive it if I have to spend another winter there. Not after this, not after getting this close. Please.”

“Okay. Of course. If it makes you feel safer, yeah. We can break them.”

“I trust you so much, Mingi, you know that, right? But… I wondered if you could maybe break yours first? Just for peace of mind. Just so I know it’s safe. I’ll sleep better.”

“Sure. Yeah, I can do that.”

There’s a pause as Zeus just watches the mirror, apologetic, head tilted like a sad puppy. 

When Mingi finally speaks, his voice is lifeless. “Oh. Okay, did you mean now?”

“The longer we spend on them, the more risk there is…” Zeus’ fingers move in a languid gesture and the noise of music and laughter swirls through the room again, as if he’s being summoned back to the party by impatient friends. He waves them away with a quick twitch of a frown, turns back with a smiling apology to Mingi. “Or did you have something else you wanted to say? We can talk when I come and see you, anyway. I will come, Mingi, I promise. I know you say I don’t owe you, but I do. I’ll come as soon as it feels safe, okay? I just need some time, but I’ll visit as soon as I can, I’ll really try.”

“That’d be nice.” There’s a sighing breath. “Bye, Yunho.”

“Mingi, you’ve been such a good friend, thank you so much for everything!”

Zeus’ last words are cut off by a final-sounding crunch, the splintering of glass. As the mirror goes dark his assumed face falls away and he turns the watchful blur that remains on Yunho. His voice is now fully his own, impossible to describe and equally impossible to mistake.

“You’ve got protection from Hades at the moment, until the agreement runs its course. That vanishes the moment you make a move in my son’s direction. You’re a lightweight, sunshine. This isn’t your place and he isn’t your business, not anymore.”

Threads of lightning dance around the mirror in his hand, skating over the metal. Slowly, the brass frame starts to bend in his grip. The glass flows and drips through his fingers like dark, glossy tears. What he tosses to the ground next to Yunho is unrecognizable; a crumpled mess of metal and fused glass. 

He no longer looks like Yunho. He’s just a man, average and unremarkable in height and shape, with nondescript black hair and that buzzing blur of static where a face should be. Eyes skewering him effortlessly in place as he tugs Yunho’s silver ring off his finger, pulls out the earrings and throws them onto the bed. Looks like he’s keeping the shirt, but it’s not like Yunho’s going to want to touch it again, anyway. 

Even after he leaves, the sharp ozone smell of an electrical storm hangs in the air.

Yunho sits for a while on the bed, waiting for the moment when he’s able to uncurl himself and reach down for the mirror. Despite the melted appearance, it’s cool to the touch. A couple of curving lines on the burned and ruined frame are all that’s left of the blossoms on the back. 

He traces them with his finger, the mark of his teeth still livid from where he bit down to keep himself silent.

_Hey, apple blossom._

The worst thing about what he’s seen Zeus do, _can’t possibly come visit, too scared, bad dreams_ … just how short a reach it was. It’s so plausible, because he’s nothing but a fucking coward. He’s been taking whatever Hades wants to dish out for years, just shutting his mouth and smiling like a good little flower boy. Listening to his ma, who’s assured Zeus that he’ll be _obedient_. Be gentle. Let them do whatever they want to all the people he loves best. 

He wipes a sleeve across his face when he’s done with crying. He knows clear through that nothing good can possibly come from setting himself up against Zeus — nothing good for him, anyway. He might still be able to do something good for Mingi, though even that’s debatable.

But his brain’s not the one in charge anymore, and he’s more angry than he’s ever been in his life. 

He needs to at least _pretend_ to be smart about what he’s about to do, which is why he waits another handful of hours — long enough to be fairly sure that Zeus has left, long enough for San and Wooyoung to decide he’s not coming down after all, long enough for the party to quiet down and his housemates to head to bed — before he climbs out of the window and sets off for the airfield.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanting to put it out there that Yunho’s beliefs about his own courage don’t in any way represent my personal opinion, especially given the relationship he’s just coming out of. All respect to anyone dealing with and/or making their way out of this kind of relationship, or worse.
> 
> If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Kudos and comments seriously make my days so much brighter and a heartfelt THANK YOU to everyone who’s shared their thoughts & feelings so far!!! You really keep me going I LOVE YOU GUYS ❤️
> 
> Sorry for the increasing levels of angst! I’d say it’s all happiness and honey pancakes from here... but I’d be lying. Sorry.


	5. Spring: Fool Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note some new tags on this puppy! Just to let you know that the non-consensual kiss is not initiated by any of the main characters, it’s one of the original characters who initiates it.
> 
> Also, apologies to all the real science I’m butchering here with my kind of hand-wavey “research” into steam engines, medicine and the like. Always happy for feedback if I’m getting something annoyingly wrong!

So it’s come to this; Yeosang is being kind to him. The automaton is perched on the edge of the bed, just a faint, gleaming silhouette in the near darkness, petting Cerberus as the dog slumps heavy and sleepy across Mingi’s legs. He’s treating Mingi like he’s made of spun sugar, likely to crumble away the moment the wind blows, and it’s making Mingi feel more panicky than he already is. Things must be beyond bad for his oldest friend to be treading so softly around him.

It was Yeosang who took the sprouts’ record off the gramophone and spirited it away to safety somewhere far from here. Yeosang who extinguished all the lamps and lightboxes, no questions asked, so that Mingi didn’t have to look at the garden anymore. The scent of the flowers still hangs in the air though, cool and sweet and edged with the faintest hint of spice. He badly needs to be somewhere else, _anywhere_ else… it’s just that he can’t face getting out of bed right now. He’s so tired and the blankets are so heavy — and then there’s this oversized dog making itself at home on his legs.

When he’s up, though, when he’s back up and running, he can finally close up the garden like he should have done years ago. Not burn it, not now that the sprouts are here, but close it away so that he doesn’t have to look at it ever again. Figure out a timer system, or get Seonghwa to water it and work the sun lenses.

The thought of Seonghwa reminds him, they’ve got bigger problems than what he’s going to do with the garden when he can get himself out of bed. He needs to get his priorities screwed on straight. “We’ve got a plan, right? For Seonghwa, and Hades?” He’s asked Yeosang before, but he can’t remember the answer. He vaguely remembers hearing something reassuring, but nothing seems to slow the endless whirl of fear and anxiety churning him up. Feels like he’s going to throw up, but he hasn’t eaten anything in a while, so he’s probably okay.

“We’ve got it sorted out, Master.” Yeosang’s voice is so patient and calm that Mingi’s sure he’s had to answer the question before, maybe more than once. _Don’t call me Master,_ he thinks, but he lets it lie, this one time. It’s too much effort to tell him to stop.

Anyway, if he’s right about the contract, it’s old jokes like that one that tricked Hades and are going to save Seonghwa. Save _him._ Yunho. Every so often he lets the name sound out in his head, like he’s testing his endurance. It’s a weird sort of pain, like hitting a new scar on something hard. Half strange jagged pain, half numbness. He wonders what Yunho’s doing now. Celebrating with friends, probably. He thinks of the smudged paint on his mouth and the little plait in his hair and his throat clenches tight.

Yeosang’s voice is gentle. “Are you going to let me look at that hand, yet?”

He thinks the question over, like he has each time Yeosang’s asked him. His hand hurts, sure, but he feels like maybe it’s supposed to. It’s right that it doesn’t feel good, because none of him feels good. It’s actually kind of reassuring that the outside of him is bleeding, too. But Yeosang isn’t going to leave him alone until he takes care of it, and he wants to be left alone. More than anything, he just wants to be alone. Though maybe the dog can stay. He seems comfortable, Mingi doesn’t want to disturb him.

So he pulls his hand out from under the blankets and offers it wordlessly to the automaton.

Yeosang steadies it with cool metal fingers. “I’m going to have to use a light, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, he taps on the lightbox, and Mingi looks away from the cut and bloody mess of his knuckles. He doesn’t know where the mirror ended up, after he broke it. Maybe he threw it across the room, or maybe Yeosang put it somewhere with the record. A small part of him hopes so. 

The automaton unpacks the supplies he’s brought and dabs a paste on the raw cuts that stings like fire. Fine. It’s fine. He closes his eyes and waits until Yeosang has tied off the bandage he wraps around his hand. It hurts, and it’s numb, just like him. The sensation gives him something to focus on; the pulsing pain is kind of rhythmic, like a heartbeat. It’s a relief when the lightbox goes dark and he can breathe again.

When Yeosang leaves, Sweetheart turns to gaze after him as the collective tail sweeps against Mingi’s leg, wagging softly. Then he lays his head down, with a whining yawn. Terrier stays alert, ears pricked, watching the door. He knows who Terrier’s waiting for, and it’s just about breaking his heart.

Fool Dog has laid his head in Mingi’s lap and is staring up at him, pale and ghostlike in the darkness. Grumpy, impulsive, emotionally incontinent Fool Dog who gets confused and sometimes nips at the people he loves. Somehow, he’s decided Mingi is his person. 

One of the maenads on the train told him that dogs could sense when people were scared or hurt or unhappy, and give them extra TLC. Fool Dog just wrinkles his muzzle in disgust and snaps if Mingi’s hands get anywhere near his head, and his expression’s permanently bleak, but he’s here, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off Mingi, so that’s something.

It’s near invisible in the darkness, but he can hear the little metallic jingle of the tag on his collar every time Fool Dog shifts his head. 

IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO YUNHO

_See, even if you can’t be with him right now, he’s going to come back for you one day. For all three of you._

He doesn’t say it out loud, because he suspects the hellhound understands more than he lets on, and he doesn’t want to make Terrier any sadder than he already is, if it’s not… if it’s not true.

Because Yunho didn’t even mention Cerberus, that’s the thing. Mingi got a look at his face when he saw that the hellhound was safe after the tunnel came down — he knows how much Yunho loves the big guy. How’s he going to collect Cerberus if he’s not planning on visiting? He doesn’t know what’s worse; the thought of Terrier watching that doorway forever, or the thought that one day he might just give up and stop waiting.

And if Yunho does come back to take the hellhound away, Yeosang’s going to be so miserable. 

Aaaaaand right on time, there are the tears again. Self pity is so _stupid,_ it’s such a waste of time and energy and it achieves _nothing,_ but here he is listening to the sad little jingle of that tag like it’s the sound of something inside of him breaking into pieces. 

None of this is Yunho’s fault, that’s the thing. It’s Mingi’s brain, his stupid, endlessly inventive brain that’s fucked him up once again. He’s been carrying around this imaginary Yunho in his head, one who just so conveniently happens to want him the way he’s always dreamed of being wanted. Who loves the things he makes because they’re _funny_ or _cute_ , not because they can kill more people at speed or look shiny on the throne room wall. Who talks to him because he can’t stay away. Touches him because he can’t bear not to.

Come on, Mingi, you met him exactly how many times? He’s fuzzy and slow with fatigue but it feels important to piece this shit together, to get a handle on just how far he’s fooled himself.

One — he holds up a finger to keep count — the day he came into the workshop, asking for the bronze rose. Back when he saw the Underworld tag on the dog and just assumed Yunho would be a mini-Hades, all slick black suit and sneering superiority. Instead he gets endless apologies and an irresistible smile that keeps breaking though, like he’s some sort of socially awkward but weirdly hot funeral salesman.

Two — Yunho stuffing himself with pancakes, and the gleam of honey on his lips. Feeling the heat of him all through his body when he leaned too close in the tiny workroom where they recorded those songs, the husky high lift of his voice as he sang. His stupid excitement when he heard his own voice played back, and the way he patiently coached Mingi until he’d learned one of the simpler songs and could sing it along with him.

Three. He knuckles at his eyes, squeezes them shut tight to forget the sound of Yunho singing to the sprouts with all the love in his voice. 

Three — oh Mother of Titans, the bath. Kissing him while the sparkle on the water lit up his face, the sweet taste of him and how is this _helping_?

Three times they’ve met, that’s all. Three times plus the mirror, the fucking _mirror_ , he doesn’t need to be thinking of that right now, he really doesn’t, not the way he held Mingi’s eyes almost till the end and the breathy moans he made when he came — but okay, alright, a grand total of four times they’ve met. And yet somehow, it’s a _special_ connection. 

He can see it so clearly. He’s mistaken gratitude and horniness and Yunho’s simple all-round kindness for something else — some kind of affection, specifically for _him._ The beginnings of some sort of lasting friendship. It’s not the first time his brain’s played tricks on him like this. Gonna be the last, though, because he can’t keep doing it. He hits his knuckles against the side of his head, trying to drive the knowledge in. Just _learn_ already. Of course he doesn’t want to come down here. Who would?

He pulls the blankets over his head and sinks back into the warm close-smelling darkness. He’s stuck in his spiraling thoughts and so tired that he doesn’t realize he’s half-asleep until something wakes him up, whacking against his legs repeatedly. An eager whine and a shifting of the heavy weight across his body tips him off — it’s Cerberus. His tail’s thumping against Mingi. Must be Yeosang, with breakfast.

He pulls the blankets tighter around his head. “If that’s pancakes, you can take ‘em away. I’m not eating pancakes ever again.”

“Well, that’s it, I’m _definitely_ not visiting, then.”

That voice. 

His heart stops. Lurches. What, he’s hallucinating now?

He flips the blankets back. There’s a familiar tall shape leaning over the bed to give Terrier a head-scratch, blonde hair picking up the faint light from the hall. Mingi slaps a hand down on the lightbox and struggles to sit up under the weight of the dog. 

He can’t be hallucinating this — Dream Yunho doesn’t even look happy. Dream Yunho, frankly, looks like shit. His eyes are puffy and sad and his tiny smile, directed more at the dog than at Mingi, it’s a shadow of its normal self. Cerberus squirms his way across the bed and tries to get his paws on Yunho’s shoulders, all three heads vying to lick him at once. “Shush, dog of my heart,” he says, fending off the heads. “I love you, and there’ll be so many head scratches, but right now you need to go find Yeosang. Go on, I’ll see you soon.” 

And Cerberus seems to get it. He’s reluctant, but he heaves himself off the bed and trots off, stopping briefly in the doorway to check that Yunho’s actually still there. 

_You and me both, buddy._

Once he’s gone, Yunho crouches down by the bed so that they’re almost at eye level. He rests one hand on the blankets but he doesn’t make any moves to bridge the gap between them right now, the smallest gap that somehow manages to feel like it’s full of a wild and painful electrical energy.

“This is going to sound like the biggest piece of bullshit anyone’s ever asked you to swallow, but I want you to at least listen, okay? I know you’ve got no reason to trust me right now.” His voice is shaky but there’s a level certainty in his eyes that Mingi can’t look away from. “It wasn’t me, Mingi. I swear it wasn’t me in the mirror, I’m so, so sorry you had to hear that. It was Zeus. I’d _never_ do that to you, never.”

It was Zeus? It was _Zeus._

He wants to believe it so very badly that he mistrusts it immediately. That’s the problem — it doesn’t sound like bullshit, it sounds… plausible. Zeus, trying to lock Mingi back up in his solitary little cage so he can be useful.

“I can’t do this.” It sounds like all the air’s gone from his lungs. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Yunho’s mouth wobbles, before the broken little smile surfaces again. “You take your time, okay? Is it — is it okay if I stay here, for now?”

The thought of him leaving is terrifying. Hurts way worse than his knuckles. “Stay. Please stay.” It’s going to make him so mad if he starts crying now. “I just can’t think when I’m looking at you.” 

He squeezes his eyes closed tight, trying to scrape together enough brain juice to find his way through this. 

Mirror Yunho didn’t ask about Cerberus, didn’t even offer to come get him. That’s weird, right? Didn’t say much about Seonghwa either, now that he’s thinking it through, and he knew Seonghwa was going to Hades. Didn’t even ask if they had a plan to get him out. 

Oh, Gaea, there’s another thought. His eyes pop open. Yunho looks exhausted, like he’s about to fall asleep there on the ground. 

“How do I know it’s really you now?” Surely Cerberus is smart enough not to lose his shit over a fake Yunho. Surely he can trust the fucking _dog_ , even if everything else is quicksand.

Yunho blinks, frowns. “Um, good question. How did you know it was Zeus, on the train? When you turned him down, that time?”

He didn’t know, not exactly. Not that it was Zeus, anyway, not until later. “He just… he tasted wrong. I don’t know how else to explain it. He kissed me, and…” A queasy shiver runs through his body at the memory.

“Well, I can’t exactly ask you to kiss me.” Yunho laughs like it’s a joke, but his eyes are so hopeless on Mingi’s that he finds himself speaking before he can stop himself.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Okay, what?”

Mingi closes the gap a little, heart beating so hard he’s feeling sick again. “Ask me to kiss you.” 

Great work, brain juice. Just — great work. Screw deduction skills, looks like he’s fueling this machine with pure hope. Smart moves all round.

“Ah, Mingi, are you sure?” Yunho’s looking dazed. “No, you know what, fuck it, seriously. Kiss me. Just do it.”

Mingi leans in to him before he can second guess himself back into the depths of Tartarus. He closes his eyes tight at the last moment, as a warm breath ghosts his face. Lips meet his, a gentle press, so soft and hesitant that he can barely feel them on his. He chases a little more pressure, waiting for the alarm bells, but there’s nothing. No heavenly choir, either, it’s just a kiss, and a very chaste one. Inoffensive. Careful. Apologetic, even.

Nobody’s ever going to mistake _that_ for Zeus. 

He smiles his relief against Yunho’s mouth and tilts his head so that he can kiss him harder, deeper, licks hungrily into his mouth, and there he is, god of the fucking spring, meeting Mingi’s heat with his own, tasting so sweet and so right that Mingi tangles a hand in his hair to hold him there in case he tries to leave again.

When he pulls back at last he’s half out of his bed, Yunho’s face is peony pink to the tips of his ears, and he’s grinning like an idiot. “I guess I passed the test?”

“You set fire to the test. Forget the test.” He’s got no idea what he’s saying, just that he can’t stop smiling.

“I also know the secret code word.” Yunho kisses him again, and it’s nothing like the first kiss. This is all passion and tongue, with no hint of an apology. He’s slightly breathless when he speaks. “Dove petals. Zeus doesn’t know dick about dove petals.”

Mother of Titans. _Zeus._

He uses his grip on the back of Yunho’s hair to pull him away, hold him there. “Wait. Stop. Yunho, if Zeus is trying to keep us apart, if he’s going to such lengths…” He barely breathes the question, because he’s suddenly so afraid there’s no good answer. “Why are you here?”

Yunho gazes at him, face flushed and eyes glazed with a mix of desire and sheer exhaustion. He’s running on fumes at this stage, and Mingi can only imagine what his last few hours have looked like. He can see Yunho trying to come back, trying to think, trying to answer the impossible. 

“Don’t ask me that.” The ghost of his old smile is back, with an edge of defiance. He puts a hand back to rub along Mingi’s fingers, leans back into his touch. “Ask me if I regret it.”

“Oh no, Yunho. Oh, fuck.” He’s in so much shit. The agreement with Hades, it doesn’t end until autumn. Zeus can still send him back to the Underworld the moment he’s got a reason to get involved, and now — now, he’s got one. 

“No matter what happens, I’m happy I’m here right now. Be happy for me. Be happy _with_ me.”

There’s a plea in his eyes.

 _No matter what happens._

“We need to get you somewhere safe.”

“Mingi, he comes into our houses, and we can’t even stop him. He wears our _faces_. There _is_ nowhere safe.”

“What if you went back now?” The thought is like a punch to the gut but even worse is the thought of something happening to Yunho because he came here, for him.

Yunho swallows, offers a crooked smile. “It’s probably too late for that. The aether is his, he owns all our asses. You know how it goes, everything is his.” He threads long fingers through Mingi’s. “Except for this moment, right now. We’ve got this, this is ours. This is just us. If you want it.”

His eyes are warm and bright, with that smile that never leaves them for long. 

Mingi wants… he wants a lot of things that he thought he couldn’t have, not so long ago, but Yunho’s practically dead on his feet. “You seriously look like you’re about to drop.” Mingi scoots back away across the bed. “Why don’t you come here, at least come get some rest.” 

“Yeah, and what if I don’t wanna sleep?” Yunho’s up and onto the side of the bed in one easy movement, despite his tiredness. He reaches down to unbuckle his boots and kicks them under the bed, then turns to give Mingi a slow look of appraisal. “What if I wanna see what you’re wearing under the blankets, instead? Wanna give me a sneak peek?” His smile is playful, but there’s something darker and hotter in his eyes. “More importantly, do I have to beat you at petteia to get you to take it off?”

Mingi laughs but it’s shaky, with the way his heart is beating triple time right now. “In your _dreams,_ forget-me-not, you know we don’t have time for you to get that good.” 

Yunho just wants to forget everything that’s about to come crashing down around them, he can see that, plain as if he’s said the words. He knows what’s coming, knows it isn’t good, and he’s made his choice. His courage, coming down here — Mingi wants to meet it head-on with his own bravery. Wants Yunho, too. Whatever he’s willing to offer, he’ll take it. 

So he runs one finger down his thin sleep shirt, watching the way Yunho’s eyes flicker down to track the movement despite himself. “If it helps, this shirt is the only thing I’m wearing. You’re the one who’s overdressed for this party.”

Yunho meets his challenge with the hint of a smirk. He pops open the first button on his shirt, then the second, and then he stops, one brow raised and just that teasing glimpse of sunkissed skin visible where the shirt hangs loose. “Oh, wait, but you preferred me with my clothes on, right? That’s what you said the other night?” 

“Asshole,” breathes Mingi, with all the affection in his heart loaded right there in his voice. He reaches out for Yunho’s open shirt front and drags him closer, pulling him in for a kiss. 

He ignores the sharp pain from his injured hand as he tugs open the remaining buttons with more force than finesse. Tries to ignore, too, the way Yunho’s laughing at his eagerness and making no move to help with the shirt, just nuzzling into his neck and sucking at the skin there in the most distracting way. He feels the faint pressure of teeth nipping at the soft skin at his throat and it’s as welcome, as _real_ as the warm weight of Yunho’s body, pressed up against him. 

The last button comes loose and Yunho’s helping him at last, tugging the shirt off impatiently and tossing it away, pulling Mingi’s sleeping shirt off over his head and ducking back down to kiss him again, like he can’t bear to lose contact. His kisses are hot and hungry, and if Mingi’s not careful he’s going to come way too soon just from the feeling of Yunho’s bare skin brushing up against his, his hands moving south, thumbing Mingi’s nipples, skimming his ribs, dipping down below the blankets to explore. He’s getting hard already, and when Yunho’s fingers brush against him he makes an inadvertent moan.

Yunho pulls back, a mix of alarm and amusement warring on his face. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s been a while,” he says, “so you have to go easy on me, or I’m not… I’m not gonna last.”

He sees Yunho add it up, the years he’s been down here, the lack of any company aside from Yeosang. Yunho’s hand comes up to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing along his jaw, and he leans in to kiss him. “‘S’alright, I got you, we’ve got time to take it as slow as you need.” One more kiss, longer and sweeter. “Besides,” he murmurs, “I want you to come with me inside you, think you can hold out that long?”

Mingi’s dick jerks painfully at the words. “Not helping.” He sounds breathless, and Yunho giggles. The asshole.

Yunho’s managed somehow to shed his trousers, leaving him in thin cotton drawers that do nothing to hide the fact that he’s already halfway hard, too. The mirror didn’t do him justice, clearly. Drymouthed and just the slightest bit giddy, Mingi tries to unknot the drawstring but the bandage gets in his way until Yunho takes pity on him and unties it, shimmies the underwear off, and oh. 

He’s gonna have to distract himself with some truly fascinating mental arithmetic because the sight of Yunho, even half-hard, the pearly pink blush of his cock and the darker head, the sweet curve of it, his whole naked body so inviting and close enough to feel the heat of him through every inch of his skin already… it’s a lot. 

Plumbing schematics, he tells himself with a desperate ferocity. Drive arrays. But all he can think is _I want you to come with me inside you_ and the way Yunho’s innocent smile isn’t fooling him for a moment, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Yunho leans down to capture his mouth again, sliding under the blankets but keeping just the narrowest most token gap between them, because they’re _taking it slow_. In between kisses Mingi sucks and bites along the tender skin of his throat, marking him up now because he can. He runs a thumb across the line of his collarbones, traces a trail of fire down his chest, and Yunho moans softly at the sensation. His hand slides down Mingi’s hip to the top of his thigh, and there’s a moment of hesitation, like he’s not sure it’s okay to go further. 

“‘M not gonna hurt you?” He lets out a gasp as Mingi strokes lower, sinks his head against Mingi’s chest. “Your leg, don’t wanna hurt you.” 

Mingi drops a kiss on the top of his head. “You’re fine, not gonna break me that easy.” But he doesn’t wear the brace in bed and he’s heard that the inset metal can be a surprise, first time, so he catches his breath, shifts so he can pull back the blanket to show him.

“Take a look.”

Yunho’s eyes drop straight to Mingi’s erection, the swollen head already shiny with precome. His lips part softly at the sight, and he looks like he’s about to reach out for it. Mingi feels his dick twitch at the thought of those long fingers wrapped around him, but he needs to do this other thing, first. Doesn’t he? Yeah, he does.

“My _leg_. Take a look at my leg.” Yunho glances up at him, then down at his leg, after one last heated moment of appreciation for his dick. Scars from the injury and the neater surgical scars cluster around the sockets on his thigh and knee, where the brace connects to the internal components he designed.

“Touch any of it, put pressure on it, you won’t hurt me, but I’m not as flexible on that side. My knee, mostly. Not gonna be able to ride you, for instance.” He doesn’t usually think about the injury that much, but that… what the fuck. That’s an actual loss. Although maybe there _is_ a way, if he can redesign the brace a little?

Yunho snaps his fingers in front of Mingi’s eyes. “Hey, inventor face, back here.” He leans over and kisses him hard, till he’s got all of his attention. His hand skates down over Mingi’s thigh. “All due respect to your genius technology, but can I please touch your dick now?” He tugs on Mingi’s lower lip with his teeth, mouth sucking messy kisses along his jawline. Whispers in his ear. “I’ve been very patient, but I really want to touch your dick, if it’s okay with you.”

“Okay,” he says shakily, as Yunho’s tongue slips around the lobe of his ear at the same time as his hand resumes its lazy path across his overheated skin until it comes to rest on his dick. He can’t help a whimper escaping him as Yunho moves his hand on him, stroking him slowly. His thumb slides over the head, and even with the precome it’s a little dry and not entirely comfortable, but the feeling of someone else touching him — no, the feeling of _Yunho_ touching him, it makes him shudder anyway.

There’s a slow, intense concentration to everything he’s doing, like he wants to push Mingi, he’s enjoying the slow tease of what they’re doing, but he wants to make it last, too.

The hell with that. Mingi is _not_ going to last and he needs Yunho inside him, right now, so bad.

He grabs Yunho’s wrist to stop him so he can roll over and grope under the bed, reaching for the drawers he’s built into the base. “Wait. Got something.” He opens the drawer one-handed and searches through it. Yunho leans up and over him to look, the press of his erection against Mingi’s hip a hot distraction. Oil, he’s looking for oil. He can’t think about Yunho’s cock, how close it is to his ass, how it’s going to feel buried inside him. He closes his eyes for a moment, because actually that’s _all_ he can think of.

“What is that, is that made of _leather_?” 

Mingi’s eyes open, reluctantly. “It’s my marriage bed, remember? I heard she was into all sorts of stuff.” As he leans over further, Yunho rides the movement, rocking against him, and he stifles a whimper. “I was just trying to be prepared.”

“Oh, it’s all for Aphrodite, huh. Sure.” Yunho ruts gently up against his hip and then gives him innocent eyes back. “You know, if you can take that, you’re probably gonna be able to take me.”

Looking for _oil_ , he reminds himself helplessly. He finally finds one of the little bottles he stashed away.

“We’re trying all of that out someday,” Yunho tells him, with one last look into the drawer. He holds out his hands for the oil and Mingi gets to watch the sight of oil running between those long fingers and pooling in his large palms. This time, when Yunho wraps his hand around Mingi’s cock, the sensation is unbelievable. The slickness of the oil, the warmth of his hand, he can’t help but buck his hips up into Yunho’s palm, and his head falls back, helpless.

“Oh _fuck,_ ohhh Yunho.” His fingers are just the right amount of tight around him, as he thumbs over the head and strokes him with lazy, practiced movements. “Not… not helping.” He grits his teeth and the words sound pained. “Just… don’t stop.”

Yunho teases one oily finger across his hole while his other hand continues its slow torture. The combination of the handjob and the intent look on Yunho’s face as he starts to work the first of those long fingers into him, eyes dark with arousal, it’s almost too much.

Every time he makes a noise — and he can’t help the soft sounds falling from his lips as Yunho slowly adds a second finger, working him open — he can hear Yunho’s breathing getting more and more ragged. He moves up to kiss Mingi, fingers still working him, and it’s messy, uncoordinated, open-mouthed. He loves it.

“You look so good right now.” Yunho’s smiling at him, and as he gasps and moans the smile broadens. “Sound so good, too. Wondering what you’re going to sound like when I fuck you, what noises I can get you making.”

“So fuck me already,” he gasps. “Come on, snowdrop, don’t keep me waiting oh _gods_ but keep doing that too.”

“Nearly there.” Yunho’s hand drops away from his aching cock and he makes the most needy and shameless whine, wanting it back, but then Yunho’s fingers move inside him, stretching him so well and he lets his head fall back against the bed, enjoying everything about this, even the sting. When Yunho adds a third finger the burn is painful and beautiful and he arches his back into the feeling as Yunho fucks his fingers into him, making no effort to stop the incoherent sounds coming from him.

Yunho slides up along him at last and the weight of him, the look on his face, has Mingi pulling him down into a kiss.

“Now? Please, now, finally?” He sounds fucked out already, he’s really not gonna last.

“Oh, _you’re_ impatient? Really?” Yunho lines his cock up against Mingi’s hole. Rocking his hips, he exerts a gentle pressure with each forward stroke, working his way into Mingi slowly. “Ohhh, Gaea. You’re so. Fucking. Hot.” He exhales, long and shaky, obviously still holding himself back. 

_God of the forge,_ he thinks, but words are _so_ far beyond him right now, it’s all he can do to breathe through the feeling of being stretched open and filled. He wants to tell Yunho he’s not gonna break, he can go faster - he _needs_ to go faster - but then Yunho makes a punchy little movement of his hips and his eyes widen at the low helpless sound Mingi makes. He does it again, a little harder this time, rocking into him until he’s fully inside. 

When Yunho starts to move it’s not exactly comfortable at first, but he loses himself fast to the sensation as his pace picks up. It’s too much friction, too much heat… he’s trying to distract himself with engine design but he gets as far as sealing glands and oil ring lubrication and the feeling of his dick slapping against his skin as Yunho drives into him is enough to send him close to the edge.

He’s proud of himself for lasting this long, the coiled tension of climax building in him with every deep thrust. _Brace redesign_ he thinks wildly, trying to focus on the cog array, the way the gear channel runs and then Yunho pulls out and slams into him so sweetly he’s seeing stars, dragging noises out of him. The concentrated smirk on Yunho’s face says he knows exactly what Mingi’s doing, and he’s not having it. His hand drops between them and slides hot along Mingi’s cock, tugs at it.

“Come on, Mingi, come for me,” he says, breathless, and it’s a competition, of course it is, but this is one game he’s totally fine with losing. He gives himself over wholly to the feeling of Yunho tugging at him, willing him to let go, feels the heat build at the base of his stomach until he comes hard, clenching around Yunho’s cock as jets of come coat his stomach. 

Yunho’s head drops into the curve of his neck as he chases his own pleasure now, slick with sweat, open-mouthed groans muffled against his skin. Mingi’s not so lost in the buzzing glow of his own orgasm that he can’t appreciate the feeling of Yunho, hips stuttering now and all sense of rhythm gone as he fucks up into him once, twice more and comes with a choked-off, breathless moan.

He holds him through it, soothing hands up and down his back, slowly starting to register the ache in his own back and hips. When Yunho lifts his head at last he kisses him, no finesse to it, just a lazy exchange of tongue and the shallow panting as Yunho finally gets his breath back. He’s too tired and bone-deep helplessly happy to care.

When Yunho pulls out of him at last he feels the warm, sticky dribble of come sliding down his thighs and ass to match the tacky mess across his stomach. He knows they’re going to wish they cleaned up properly in the morning, but he’s also exhausted and sore, muscles trembling, and the feeling of Yunho equally fucked out and relaxed in his arms is not something he’s ready to give up just yet. Fuck it. Tomorrow is tomorrow. He pulls Yunho’s cotton drawers towards them and does his half-assed best to clean up some of the mess.

“Wanna bath?” Can’t say he didn’t try, anyway.

“Soon,” mumbles Yunho. “Just… lemme have a little sleep, ‘kay?”

“Get some rest.” His voice is hoarse. “I‘m happy you’re here, rosebud. For what it’s worth.”

Yunho smiles slow and sleepy like he can’t be bothered forming words, eyes already drooping closed. There’s not a lot to say, really. They’ll be safe or they won’t. If anything happens — and he feels it in his bones that something is coming for them, something is already on its way — then he’ll fight with teeth and claws and every fucking weapon in his considerable arsenal for the god in his arms. 

He turns them both so that he can reach across Yunho to tap the lightbox. His last sight of Yunho, the one he carries down into his dreams, is a sated and dopey smile, and a mirror reflection of the way he’s feeling right now in the brightness of his tired eyes, like stars.

___________________  
  


It’s the heat that wakes Yunho up. The heat, and the nightmare that rides him as he struggles out of sleep, leaving him with a hazy impression of wandering endless corridors looking for something that’s gotten trapped under the floors.

He’s confused for a moment by the heavy weight of an arm thrown over his hip, the bulk and weight of a body pressed along the line of his back, tangling with his legs; the gentle rasp of soft snoring just behind his ear. The smell of sex and wildflowers brings last night flooding back, in all its sweet, sweet filthy glory. Mingi, he’s with Mingi, in the garden. _Their_ garden. 

His heart does a complicated little thing, like it’s dancing its ass off and yelling warnings at him all at the same time. 

He turns himself carefully in Mingi’s arms because the feeling of him there behind him isn’t enough, he wants to see him, too. The god of the forge is rosy-golden in sleep, plush lips parted softly, hair sleep-tousled and completely out to it. He’s so close that their noses are almost touching. Yunho could just lean forward another inch and kiss him, he _wants_ to kiss him, but he also doesn’t want to wake him up. The dark dents under his eyes are silent reminders of how exhausted he is, how much he needs to rest. 

He never wants to see that look on Mingi’s face again, the one that he saw last night when he showed up. Dazed, completely beaten, hurt to the point of breaking. So he wants to kiss him, wake him up, see where it leads — but he doesn’t. He lets him sleep.

He’s aware now, anyway, of the shitty job he did cleaning himself up last night, and the way he needs to pee, besides. He lifts Mingi’s arm as gently as he can and slides out of bed, leaving him stirring restlessly, sprawling across the now empty side of the bed, but not waking up. 

It's so much colder away from him, tiled floor chilly on his bare feet. He pulls his trousers back on, wincing at the chafe, and screws up the filthy cotton drawers to take with him to wash. His shirt’s lost a couple of buttons and he smiles, remembering Mingi’s eagerness. Prefers him with a shirt on, his _ass._ He does up the remaining buttons; it’s good enough to go find somewhere to pee, maybe even clean himself up properly. 

Mingi’s baths, oh sweet Gaea, the thought of the bath with the paws sends him off down the hallways looking for anything familiar so he can find his way there. Lying back in a hot tub right now would be fucking heaven, and the thought of Mingi joining him there when he wakes up, oh yeah, that’s a part of it, too. Soaping him down and getting the chance to explore every inch of him at leisure, taking him apart slowly and thoroughly and letting the water wash away all of the bullshit hanging over them both.

It's the wisps of steam in the air, faint but getting thicker, that tell him he’s on the right track. The lemon yellow tiles of the hall look about right, as far as he remembers. 

A scramble of claws on tile is his only warning before Cerberus comes barreling around a corner towards him. Yunho braces himself as the hellhound jumps up at him, heavy paws on his chest crowding him back against the wall, heads fighting to lick his face. He’s giving each of them scratches and trying to avoid the surprise paws to the bladder when he realises that Yeosang is standing just beyond Cerberus. He’s so quiet. Why is he always so _quiet_? 

“Shit! Sorry. Yeosang, hey, sorry.” 

He’s not exactly sure what he’s apologizing for. The crazy fuss Cerberus is making; maybe the fact that he’s wandering the halls uninvited, no Mingi in sight. He’s still not sure Yeosang believes the story about Zeus and the mirrors, but the automaton let him in last night anyway, and he’s gonna be forever grateful for that. 

Yeosang takes in the missing buttons, the bare feet. Can they smell things, the automata? he’s pretty sure they can, and he knows he’s probably a fragrant mix of sweat and other bodily fluids right now. Also — Yunho slaps a hasty hand up to where he’s fairly sure there’s a mark or two on his neck, and Yeosang’s pale brows flick upwards. 

“Yunho. Leaving already?”

“No! Just looking for the baths. I was gonna clean up a bit.”

“I don’t think bitemarks actually wash off, Yunho.” There’s a gleam in the automaton’s amber eyes, like he’s enjoying this. “I don’t have skin, though. Could be wrong.”

Yunho buries his face in Terrier’s long fur with a groan so that he can let his blush cool down. Maybe take a moment too to think about Mingi’s mouth, and the uses he might put it to.

“You’re in the wrong hallway, anyway,” says Yeosang. “Come on, I’ll show you where the baths are.”

“Where’s the steam coming from, then?” It’s getting thicker and more visible now, swirling around their feet. Actually, no, that’s weird. Isn’t steam normally higher up? It’s not hot, either, not like the steam in the bathroom.

“What steam?” Yeosang looks around with a frown.

It’s not hot at all — it’s cold. Clammy. Because it’s not steam at all, he realises.

It’s fog.

Right on cue, Cerberus begins to growl, low and ominous.

“Yunho?” Yeosang can see it now, same as him. The fog, growing thicker and higher, swirling around them. The faces in the fog.

“Hades,” he says, setting his back to the wall. “They’re shades. It’s Hades.”

“Why are they here?” Yeosang waves an arm through the fog nearest him and the shades swirl and regroup behind him.

The wall behind his hands is reassuringly solid but he’s shaking all over. “He’s coming for me, I think.” His heart’s beating so hard he can hear it roaring in his ears and his own voice sounds tiny and far away. “I broke the agreement.”

“He’s in our _house._ ” There’s a click and a metallic scraping noise as Yeosang detaches a part of what looks like his arm — slides something from his sleeve? It’s confusing, too fast to follow, but somehow he’s now carrying a silver-gilt blade, something like a long dagger. A detached part of Yunho’s mind is whispering _Not gonna do you much good against the dead, my friend._ But oh Gaea, he appreciates it, especially when Yeosang stands in front of him.

Mingi — what if this is a distraction, and Mingi’s the real target? Even as his brain spirals at the thought, he knows deep down that this is between him and Hades. He’s the one Hades wants, and Mingi’s only going to be collateral damage if Yunho lets him get dragged into this. He has to keep Hades here in this hallway.

Cerberus’ growls are accelerating into barks and he just has time to register that they’re not directed at the shades — he’s facing off against the wall behind Yunho — when something plucks at his sleeve. Before he can move, he’s pinned to the wall by the wrists, shades thickening and twining into sinuous white bindings. He lurches away from the wall, but they drag him back.

“Hold still.” Yeosang brings up the knife and Yunho freezes as it probes the bonds holding him tight. The blade slices through like they’re not even there, and he narrowly misses cutting Yunho. 

All three of Cerberus’ heads are rattling off loud barks as he snaps at the shades. It’s only a matter of time before he wakes up Mingi, and brings him right here into the middle of the shitstorm. “Cerberus, fuck it, be _quiet!_ ” There’s a plea in his voice that the dog ignores entirely.

It’s Terrier's head swinging towards the cloud of shades behind Yeosang that warns him once more, before the white fog coalesces into thick knots and a dark speck at their centre widens like a dark mouth opening. Hades steps out from an empty yawning space that leaves Yunho dizzy and nauseous from just that one brief glimpse.

Yeosang swings around, knife ready, just as Yunho sees Cerberus bracing himself to leap.

“Cerberus, _no_! Yeosang, stop him!”

The automaton catches hold of the dog’s collar and hauls hard on it. He’s stronger than he looks; Cerberus jerks to a halt just in front of Hades, paws scrabbling at the tiles. 

“Oh, please let him try,” he says, over the sound of the dog’s enraged growls. Hades is smiling — he’s fucking _smiling_. “You know how I like to correct a puppy who’s lost his manners. Forgotten who owns him.”

“You’re trespassing,” says Yeosang, keeping one hand knotted in the collar and raising his blade.

“And your master’s a thief,” replies Hades. “Try it, legal counsel. See if you enjoy what happens when you test the patience of a god.”

The bonds around Yunho’s wrists tighten and he makes a small noise.

“Yunho? You okay?” Yeosang darts a quick look at him like he’s afraid to take his eyes off Hades for more than a second. 

The shades swirl around him, tightening like ropes made of silken smoke around his wrists, and snaking their way up around his throat. “Okay. I’m okay,” he says as they constrict, jerking him towards Hades. Who takes him in head to toe, the wrecked shirt and the bed hair, and that’s right, asshole — Yunho tilts his jaw proudly to make sure he doesn’t miss the bitemarks. _Eat shit, Hades_.

“Look at you. I’m starting to wonder if you were ever worth the effort.” He turns Yunho’s head with two gloved fingertips and his lip curls. Yunho’s legs are still free and just for a hot moment he considers how much damage he could do if he swung a knee up into those immaculately tailored trousers. He needs this over, though. Right now, before Mingi has the chance to wake up.

Hades takes a step back from him as Yeosang pushes in between them, knife out. 

“You’re not taking him.”

Hades regards the automaton quizzically, before starting to remove one of his gloves. “You’re not alive, so I can’t kill you, but you’re not invulnerable. Corrosion, rust. Metal fatigue. You’re equally as fragile as Yunho — maybe more so.”

Yunho struggles against the shades holding him fixed in place. “Just take me, leave him alone, it’s only me you want! Just do it, quit the fucking talking!”

But Yeosang doesn’t budge. “Mingi needs you, Yunho, you’re good for him, and you came back here for him when you didn’t have to. Aetna looks after its own.”

“Golden boy.” Hades’ hand is bare now and he flexes his fingers. Yunho knows what they can do; knows he can break Yeosang easy as breathing. “Put the letter opener aside and answer me this. How does the law stand on me taking my husband home with me? Not your rudimentary ideas of right and wrong, the actual word of the law?” He never asks questions like that if he doesn’t already know the answer. “Am I within my rights?”

“Fuck it, Hades, just take me already! He knows it’s legit.”

Against all reason Yunho wants Yeosang to contradict him so badly, but the automaton just looks at him, eyes fierce but helpless. He’s got nothing. There _is_ nothing.

“He has protections.” That’s the only warning he can offer, in the end. “In the contract, there are things you can’t do. Penalties for harm.”

“And a yet an awful lot of leeway for what I _can_ do, until autumn.” 

Hades holds up a hand and one of the shades swirls around it, circling his fingers. Hades hooks his fingers into it and his wrist describes a savage movement. The shade elongates in his fingers, drawing out like a pulled wire, and in the ragged gap at its heart is a deep cold darkness lit by burning stars. A freezing mist hangs in the air, and through the torn veil of the shade he can see a carriage waiting.

Oh no, oh no no no.

He knows this. 

He’s been through the Shroud before, once and only once, the day he first came to the Underworld. Back when Hades still cared enough to show off with a raw display of power, because opening the way leaves him weakened and the shades that he uses to make the portal are gone for good. 

It’s not so much a place as it is a _thing,_ the Shroud — it’s Death, pure and simple. It’s home to Hades’ horses; not the spindly milk-white mares at the mansion but the shadow beasts, all muscle and shivering sinew and gleam of teeth. Alastor, Orphnaeus, Aethon, and Nycteus. He can see them there, waiting. Watching.

The Shroud is where Hades keeps his carriage, his _real_ carriage, the Last Ride. It’s gold and ornate but strangely hard to take in with the dizzying patterns carved into its side, so that all Yunho ever remembered afterwards was a stain of gold on the darkness and the door swinging open. Can’t remember travelling in it, just that he was sick for a week and Hades thought it was hilarious. Something about the way his own small springtime powers reacted to even a brief enclosure in the endlessness of Death.

The shades wind him in like a dog on a leash, and he’s trying to keep his shit together so that this can be over faster but he can’t help fighting them because he can already feel the way the Shroud is reaching out for him.

Hades slides a cold hand into his and squeezes with a friendly smile that doesn’t reach his glittering eyes. “I’m sure you remember how this works? Hold on, flower boy, it’s in your best interests.”

First time round, he thought it was just a cute trick to get him to hold hands. Now he knows enough to hang on as hard as he can because if Hades lets go, Yunho’s gone. 

“Yunho!” Yeosang reaches out urgently for his other hand and he tugs against the shades to reach back as far as he can. He can’t stay here but _sweet Gaea_ he just needs that last friendly touch. The warm metal fingers slip through his grasp as Cerberus lunges and Yeosang has to use both hands to haul back on the collar.

The last thing he hears as the shades pull him into the Shroud is the ungodly sound of Cerberus’ three-part howling, loud enough to wake up Mingi, and that’s the worst thought of all. Then the shade portal withers in front of him like a spiderweb on fire and all the bright colours of Aetna are gone. 

It’s hard to get enough air into his lungs here. He finds himself reeling dizzily against Hades, all bone and sharp angles in the strange half-light of the Shroud. The giant black horses wheel around them and the carriage door swings open onto a darkness so complete that it seems to be full of writhing shapes.

Hades hands Yunho into the carriage, fingers like cold talons, and Death eats him alive.

  
  


When he comes to he’s on his hands and knees, coughing up everything he’s eaten in the past day, stomach acid burning in his nose and throat. Everything’s still wheeling around him and he can’t focus properly, can’t see enough to know where he is. The carpet under his hands feels familiar… expensive but harsh, and far too thin to soften the cold floor below. The mansion. He’s back at the mansion. 

He’s so fucking freezing, why is it still so _cold_? The weight around his neck tips him off, even before he sees the silver gleam on his wrists and realises what it means. He’s back in the suit too, waistcoat and jacket pulling tight around his ribs as he retches one last time.

Meaning Hades stripped him naked, while he was out cold. Took everything he was wearing, everything that tied him to Mingi and Aetna, and dressed him up like the bad old days instead. Probably burned all his old clothes, too.

“When you’re quite finished making a mess, on your feet.”

Pride gives him the strength to try and push himself to his feet, but he’s too wobbly and there’s nothing to hold onto. Hades waves a hand and two of the shade ropes slither around his wrists and haul him up. 

Now that he’s standing, he knows exactly where they are. Hades has his hand on the door of the little room tucked under the stairs, in the main hall of the mansion. There’s a sign on the door, and even though he can’t see it with the way his vision’s swooning in and out, he knows what it says — NEEDS MUST, burned onto the wood in fancy block letters. When he first saw the door, all those years ago, he thought it was a water closet with a cute name, but now… now he knows better.

 _Needs must when the devil drives,_ that’s the saying. Because sometimes you just have to suck it up and do stuff you might not like. Sometimes you've got little choice, when it comes down to it. 

Sometimes, you’ve got no choice at all.

He’s never figured out the way the room works, never wanted to look too close. It changes, he knows that, and it gives Hades what he needs, when he needs it. He’s seen a whole forest in there, and Hades coming home with the shades dragging the torn carcass of something he’s killed for the dinner table.

Is Hades planning to _hunt_ him? He’s pretty sure that’s against the terms of the agreement, but his heart’s already pounding so hard it hurts.

When Hades opens the door though there’s no forest, just a small, bare space like a cell; black walls and black floor, no furniture. It’s only when the shades pull him in that he sees how low the ceiling is, not quite high enough for him to stand upright so that he has to bend his head to fit in. There’s a little glass bottle catching the light on the floor and the shades drop him beside it.

Without the shades to hold him up, it’s just easier staying on the ground. The cold from the jewelry is biting now and he tries to force numb fingers between the necklace and his skin but they’re clumsy, he can’t seem to make them work. 

“Yes, you’ll notice the jewelry affecting you more,” says Hades, idly. “I’ve adjusted it a little. Your boy was kind enough to allow for an increase if I found myself in hotter climates.” 

Hades is leaning against the wall, completely relaxed, set for whatever bullshit monologue he has planned. Yunho drops his head onto his arms and tries to tune Hades out.

“I was surprised when Zeus told me what you’d done, coming down to Aetna. You knew how the agreement worked, and yet you handed yourself over to me, gift-wrapped. Of course I had to unwrap you, but it’s nothing you hadn’t shared with me before, willingly enough.” The smirk in his voice turns Yunho’s stomach. If only he had enough left in him to be able to throw up on Hades’ boots. “I wonder, was he worth it?”

There’s a pause as he waits for a reaction, but Yunho’s done. He’s so fucking done with this asshole he married. He’d rather be back in the carriage.

Keeping his mouth closed tight around his anger is worth it just to hear the irritation in Hades’ tone when he starts up again. “Alright, then let’s take it as read that you’ve made some touchingly defiant speech about how dear he is to you, and how you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, just to let him cover you with all the filth I had to wash off you.” He comes closer until the tip of one boot nudges at the bottle beside Yunho. “That water’s from the Lethe. I think you know it’s properties?”

Oh yeah, he’s familiar. The dead drink from the river Lethe on their way into the Twilight Realm, so that they can move on from the land of the living. Lethe water wipes memories cleaner than the tiles in the mansion’s kitchen. He pushes himself backwards away from it, the strongest rejection he can make while his hands aren’t working well enough to throw it at a wall — or better yet, Hades’ head. 

“You’ll come to it. Because here’s the thing, Yunho, you’ll drink it or you’re not coming out at all. Shed the past, and you’re free to join me in the mansion. If you choose not to, if you’re so determined to hold onto all the things that are holding you back, then you’d better get used to this room.”

“Only till autumn,” he manages, through chattering teeth.

“Indeed,” agrees Hades. “But how long do you think you’ll last in here? You’re already shroud-sick, your temperature is dropping. When I close that door, you’re all alone. No sound, no light, nothing but your own dull little thoughts for company. You’ve got months to think it through, flower boy. How long until that water starts to look like your best bet?”

He’s in the doorway now, a dark silhouette against the lamplight in the hall. “On the good side, you won’t remember enough to blame yourself. You’ll be happy, after a fashion. So don’t leave it too long. Frostbite’s a real possibility, and your hands are your best feature.”

When the door closes behind him, the room’s so dark that Yunho can’t see anything, but everything’s still spinning. It’s not quite as bad as the Last Ride, but it’s close. Shutting his eyes makes everything a little more manageable, a little more friendly. It’s just nighttime, that’s all. Just a really, really quiet night in the middle of winter. He backs carefully against the wall with hands that he can no longer properly feel. His whole head is aching so he lies down and tucks his arms around his legs, curls up as tight as he can.

He already knows he’ll never drink the water, but he’s not sure where that leaves him. 

Except that where it leaves him is angry. He’s so fucking angry that all the splintered fragments of fear and hatred stick in his throat like a last meal. With no sense of time and nothing to distract him, his thoughts keep circling viciously back to Hades. That last sight he had of him, all sleek and elegant and oh so perfectly untouched by any of this. The way he’s always looked at Yunho like he was some sort of pitiful, disappointing mess to clean up. 

Least he can do is die messy. Die so messy that that asshole is cleaning up the fallout for a lifetime — because actually, not to be too dramatic about it, but he thinks there’s a small possibility that he might be dying. He’s barely even shivering anymore, kinda feeling almost warm now, and that’s probably not a good sign.

Mess and chaos and uncertainty, that’s what he wishes on Hades, hard as he can, so hard that his throat burns with it. It’s like something leaves him with that thought, a tension running right through him and out of his body. It's enough to let him drift for a while, and maybe even sleep. 

He keeps waking up, though. That’s the problem; he wakes up and he’s still here in the dark, in the cold. _Hate doesn’t keep you warm,_ that’s what they say, right? And it doesn’t. It just makes his head hurt. 

So instead, he lets the fear and pain go and reaches for the good stuff, pulling out memories like he’s flipping through a sketchbook of better days. He tries to hold onto the wild beauty of skylarks in the field behind Hecate’s house, the sweet sound of their voices soaring in the blue high above him. The clean smell of his ma’s lavender sachets, from when he was a kid playing hide and seek in her wardrobe and dress-ups in her clothes. 

He thinks of San, and the time they camped out in the mountains under a night sky bright with thousands of stars. Remembers threading the chain on the ruby San bought him through his ear and kissing him till they were both dizzy. 

Thinks too of Wooyoung, hand-feeding him a homemade birthday cake studded with strawberries and a creamy frosting that was eighty percent white rum. Dancing slow with him on the back porch, head snuggled into the crook of his neck, the night he got back from his summer on Ogygia.

He tries, too, to remember Mingi; the feel of Mingi’s hands on him, the way his skin lit up golden under that fiery touch, but it’s so far away now. Can still see his face, though. The light and the heat in his eyes, the warmth of his husky voice.

_Hey, apple blossom._

He repeats it to himself with a numb mouth, a whisper in the dark, whenever he wakes up. 

It’s there on his lips like a prayer, when he falls asleep that last time.

  
____________________  
  


Cerberus’ eerie howls bring him upright in bed, reaching blindly for the light with his heart in his throat, and he knows. Mingi _knows._ Even before he sees the empty bed next to him.

He’s desperately pulling on trousers and groping for his brace under the bed when Yeosang bursts in, followed by the dog.

“Yunho, he’s got Yunho.” 

“Who was it?” But he knows it's not Zeus, not this time.

“Hades, he’s taken him.”

Mingi pulls out the brace and starts to fit it, trying to keep himself calm, can’t do this if he’s not calm, can’t help anyone. The ritual of straps and screws grounds him, drives the trembling out of his hands. Anger or fear — doesn’t matter. Neither of them are any use to him right now, so he stuffs them away down deep. “They’re gone?”

“He took him through some sort of portal, just here and then gone. It wasn’t the Underworld though, it was somewhere else.” Yeosang’s words are falling all over each other with his sense of urgency. “It was dark, there were horses. A carriage.”

He should have felt it, someone else playing around with major power like that in his own house. If he hadn’t been asleep, hadn’t been so uselessly tired… Hades took Yunho through the Shroud. _Fuck_. He drags the last strap tight, buckles it and takes the shirt Yeosang throws at him. “We’re getting him back.”

“The agreement—”

“Fuck the agreement.” Through the _Shroud_ , Mingi’s going to tear his head off. Weapons, he needs weapons. He heads for the armory with Yeosang trailing behind him and Cerberus at his heels. 

He hasn’t been spending much time in the armory lately, and it’s a mess of half-finished projects and weapons gathering dust. Mingi picks up a prototype compound bow he made for Artemis and checks under the bench for the matching quiver of arrows.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but he’s got the law on his side.” Mingi has to bite down on his first response, because this is Yeosang, it’s how he deals with the unknown. He gets a hand on the strap of the quiver and drags it out, but the arrows are still in the workshop, he remembers now.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says instead, turning on Yeosang, who looks taken aback at the admission. Mingi reaches back past him for the warhammer mounted on the wall. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“If you do this, you’re basically declaring war on Hades. On the Twilight Realm.”

Warhammer or axe? They both look so fucking good and lethal. “I don’t know what to tell you right now, Sangie. Yes, I am. I’m going to war.” He hefts the hammer. Feels good, feels about right. Yeosang’s still staring at him, looking like he wants to say something. “You got a question?”

Yeosang’s eyes still look shellshocked but his voice is steadier. “Sure. Okay. Can you fit me with the flamethrower?”

Mingi grins, and kisses the side of Yeosang’s head. “You got it.” The flamethrower’s gonna be overkill considering his own natural thing for fire, but what the hell. It’s the thought that counts. He pulls down the backpack and fuel tanks; they feel mostly full. A small miracle, he’ll take it.

He’s strapping Yeosang into the backpack and harness when the armory door opens. Seonghwa’s still in his long coat and scarf from the trip to Olympus for supplies. He greets Cerberus with a smile and takes in Yeosang and his flamethrower with a quizzical tilt of his brow. Only just starting to figure that something’s gone really, badly wrong.

“What’s happened?”

Mingi feels the tension run through Yeosang, like it often seems to do when he’s with Seonghwa. Like his wiring’s pulling taut, poised for something, fight or flight.

“Yunho came back to Aetna while you were gone, but Hades has taken him. We’re going to get him back.”

Mingi checks the balance of the fuel tube in the harness along Yeosang’s thigh and waits for the objection. It never comes; instead, when he looks up, Seonghwa’s watching the other automaton with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Yeosang’s echo sounds unsure.

“Alright, I’m coming with you.” Seonghwa sidesteps Cerberus to pick up a sword from one of the racks, tests its weight.

Yeosang’s whole body moves jerkily under Mingi’s hands as he shortens and tightens the strapping around his thigh. “Nobody expects you to come charging into battle! It’s going to be dangerous.”

“If it’s dangerous, all the more reason for me to come help.”

“I’ve got this, Seonghwa, seriously. I can look after Mingi just fine on my own.”

“Did it ever occur to you that he might not be the one I’m coming along to protect? All due respect, Mingi.” Seonghwa slips off his scarf and long coat and folds them neatly onto the bench. The sword slides into its sheath on his hip with a decisive metallic hiss. “While you’re busy being a hero, who has _your_ back, if I don’t come with you?”

But Yeosang’s still tense, one hand clamped on the bench so hard that it’s starting to splinter at the edge. “You know it’s not just Yunho that Hades wants, right?”

Seonghwa just smiles. “I’m safe from Hades, Yeosang. You wrote that contract, and I trust you to keep me safe, you above everyone. Now you need to return the favour and let me keep you safe. Okay?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “How are we getting there, by airship?”

Mingi hefts the warhammer and feels the righteous fire already starting to gather in his fingertips, in his arms, burning hot and ready in his blood. “Nah, let’s take the direct route.”  
  


The shelving lip of the new tunnel spirals up and onto the front lawn of Hades’ mansion in a sheer mess of fused and twisted rock. It was molten only moments ago, but he’s just got enough control left to cool it so that they can walk through it. Still warm under the soles of his boots, though, and he likes that. That’s fine with him, like the earth is meeting his anger halfway.

Out on the lawn there’s still a sullen glow here and there; a lifeless tree left smoldering; something that used to be a fountain torn and buried now under enormous chunks of rock, one lone dolphin head smirking at him from across the grass.

But there’s no real satisfaction in seeing the Twilight Realm on fire, because Yunho’s still in there somewhere, and he needs him to be safe first. Later, they can pull up a couch and watch the whole place burn together, but for now he just needs him to be safe.

Mingi crouches down in front of Cerberus and kisses a surprised Fool Dog right on his bony white forehead before he can duck away. “Find him, okay?” Terrier’s already pulling them towards the house, shoulders straining against Yeosang’s grip.

He gives Yeosang a nod and the automaton lets go of Cerberus’ collar. The hellhound streaks off across the lawn, leaping rocks with ease, heading straight for the front door. Hades’ protective power runs right through the fabric of the mansion, but either going through the Shroud has weakened Hades’ defenses or Mingi’s fury is giving him an edge because he takes out the door with a wave of his hand. Cerberus bounds through the rain of splinters and flame and vanishes into the mansion.

When they follow him inside, Mingi’s half expecting Hades to be there to meet them and he’s got the warhammer ready to say a big hello, but the hall is empty. Cerberus is barking his heads off under the stairs, paws up and scrabbling on a small door tucked away underneath. 

NEEDS MUST. The prim cuteness of the name on the door sends a chill through him and he shakes it off, raising his hammer. He’s all ready to take a swing at the door when Seonghwa reaches past him and tries the handle. The door opens on darkness.

When he sees what’s inside — _who’s_ inside — he drops the hammer. It’s dark in there, but the firelight from the hall picks out the blonde hair of the figure curled up at the foot of the far wall. He looks far too small, that’s his first thought. But it’s him, he knows it.

He’s across the room so fast, his fucking _knee_ getting in his way as he drops to the ground, feeling something grind and give way but beyond caring.

“Watch the door.” He doesn’t bother to see if they listen, all his attention on the body — on _Yunho_ — curled up against the wall, unmoving.

When he moves Yunho’s hands away from his face — so cold, why are they so cold? — he’s smiling. It’s just the smallest hint of a smile, the corners of his mouth tucking up, the way they do when he’s about to give Mingi shit about something. But his hands are freezing and his lips are as pale as ice and Mingi can’t… he can’t feel him breathing. 

A familiar biting chill radiates from his neck, from his wrists. It’s his fucking jewelry, oh Mother of Titans, oh Gaea. Careful as he can, he unclasps the necklace and the bracelets and throws them aside, slides a hand under Yunho’s jaw. The livid white line where the necklace sat burns under his fingers.

“Is he… alright? Mingi? Is he okay?” Seonghwa’s soft voice reaches him from the doorway. 

He just shakes his head, not that he’s not okay, just that he can’t trust himself to talk, not while he doesn’t know, not while he might _not_ be okay.

His own breath rushes out when he feels it. There… but it’s faint. A pulse, barely there. A heartbeat. He maneuvers himself back against the wall so he can lay his busted leg out straight, and pulls Yunho up carefully into his arms. He’s gotta get him warm, but slowly. Slowly. Go too fast and he’s going to hurt him worse.

Mingi tears at the bandage around his hand so he can use both palms to channel heat through him. He wraps his arms around Yunho, one hand holding his wrists up against his chest, the other cradling his neck and throat. Yunho’s head rests on his chest and he breathes a kiss into his hair, hoping. Just hoping.

From outside the room there’s a loud barking from the hellhound, and the sound of raised voices. Yeosang’s deep, furious voice cuts through the noise.

“He’s not _yours,_ he stops being yours when he’s dead!”

And he hears Hades laugh, and he’s never wanted to hurt someone so badly before. Not kill him — _hurt_ him. Tear him up. “He’s not dead, he’s just being dramatic!” 

But when Hades comes into the room, all cocksure and sneering, he stops at the sight of them lying there on the floor. Comes a little further into the room, an uncertain frown on his face. 

“Get any closer and you can gut him where he stands.” Mingi’s growl is directed at Seonghwa, whose sword is already drawn.

He’s channeling just the faintest thread of heat through Yunho now, trying to chase away the bluish tinge to his pale lips. He presses his cheek against Yunho’s clammy face and closes his eyes to focus all his warmth through those points of contact; face, throat, wrists. His powers work best with the touch of skin on skin, that’s how he’s gonna do this. How he’s gonna get him back.

“He’s not…” Hades sounds uncharacteristically confused. Despite that, there’s still an edge of arrogance to his tone, like Yunho’s being disobedient. “He’s just meant to be uncomfortable. I wasn’t trying to…”

“You took him through the Shroud, you fuck.” He’s speaking low because he’s right beside Yunho’s ear and he doesn’t want anger to be the first thing he hears, if he wakes up. When he wakes up. “And you cranked that shit I made up to its highest setting. It’s designed for you, you can take it, you’re an Olympian, he’s not.” He realises he’s rocking Yunho gently, makes himself stop. Presses up against his cold cheek. “He’s _not_.”

It’s not enough, he’s not doing enough, or he’s not doing it right. Yunho still hasn’t moved at all, and he’s still so colorless. Mingi tugs at the top buttons of Yunho’s shirt and waistcoat and slips a hand underneath to rest on his chest, right over his heart. He waits to pick up the barely detectable rhythm of his heartbeat, then starts to match it with his own soft pulses of heat.

“If he comes back, you live.” It’s simple, no drama, just the plainest statement of facts. A bargain, or a promise.

Hades laughs again, but it’s uneasy. “You can’t kill me. You can’t kill _Death._ ”

Mingi just looks at him, and sees the faint recoil as Hades reads the truth in his eyes. No idea how he’ll do it, but he’s endlessly inventive and he’ll have nothing but time on his hands, if Yunho...

He blinks the thought away. 

Is it his imagination, or is the cold under his hands just a little less noticeable, as if Yunho’s starting to warm up at last? Maybe, just maybe there’s a little more colour in his cheeks. A little less blue on his lips.

_Come on, peony, come back to me. I gotcha._

Hades cuts through his concentration. “Anyway, regardless of what’s happening here, Mingi, you’re trespassing. You’ve come into my house with your weapons, broken down my door—”

“Yeah, wait till you see the landscaping I did outside. That fountain’s looking a whole lot better.”

It’s then that he feels the faintest of movements under his hand. It’s more than the soft lift and fall of his breathing, more than the thready heartbeat: a deeper breath in, a breath out like a soundless sigh. 

His face is still too pale but his eyelids are fluttering, like he’s dreaming. Mingi’s barely breathing himself when Yunho’s eyes open a crack, so dark against the pallor of his face. 

“Hey,” says Mingi softly. “Welcome back.” 

Yunho’s mouth tilts in that small smile again, makes the shapes of familiar words. He can’t quite hear them, but he gets the gist of it. _Hey, apple blossom_. Mingi drops a heartfelt kiss on his cheek like a prayer, and pulls him in tighter. 

Hades shifts impatiently. “There, you see, he’s alive. I haven’t killed him, he’s still mine.”

Mingi can feel the reaction run right through Yunho at that. “He’s coming with us when we leave.” If he has to reduce this whole tomb to a pile of ashes, he’s leaving here with Yunho. Might fire it up anyway, just for fun.

“You might not like it, but legally he’s still my husband until autumn. The original contract still stands.”

“Not anymore,” says Yeosang. “Not after this. I can tell you just how many clauses you’ve pissed all over today, but you’re smart. You figure it out. You’re going to be lucky if Demeter doesn’t flay you alive.”

“Well alright. Perhaps.” The gleam in Hades’ eyes is downright unpleasant. “But that’s not the only agreement in play, is it? And if it comes down to it, I don’t even need the half-thawed baked alaska there, because I’ve got something better coming my way, with just a little patience.”

Hades is hovering close enough to reach out and touch Seonghwa and all Mingi wants is for the automaton to use his sword, just to see the look on his face. It’s never gonna kill him, but it’d hurt and he still wants him to hurt, so very badly. Only problem is, Hades can hurt Seonghwa far worse in return.

Seonghwa, though, is as composed as ever. He folds his hands over the hilt of the sword. “Ah, yes, that’s right. Mingi signed over his rights to you.”

“He did,” purrs Hades, delighted. “Come autumn, I own you. I’ll be your lord and master, sweet one. Just imagine.”

Mingi's had _so_ much more than enough. “You don’t own shit, Hades.” 

“You’ve signed over your rights — what's yours is mine!”

“News flash, assclown, that’s kinda the point. I don’t own them. I never did.”

“We’re created quite uniquely,” says Seonghwa. It’s the impersonal kindness in his voice that stops Hades dead better than any blade. “Mingi built us to be autonomous. It’s right there in our workings, etched onto our innermost selves. Proveable. Undeniable.” His smile is sweet but made of pure iron. “Simply put, we own ourselves. Mingi’s rights are non-existent.”

Yunho stirs on his lap as if he’s trying to get up, and Mingi helps shift him upright a little more. 

He almost misses the rush of movement and for a moment Mingi thinks Seonghwa has skewered Hades after all, but instead it’s Hades who has lunged at the automaton, cornering him up against the wall in a kiss that looks more like an assault. 

The lord of the Underworld pulls away, tongue darting out to dab at the corner of his mouth. “You’re mine now, though, sweetheart. A true bond, isn’t that the lore? An automaton’s first kiss?”

Seonghwa takes his time pulling an immaculate white handkerchief from the top pocket of his jacket. He wipes his mouth on it thoroughly, balls up the handkerchief and drops it at Hades’ feet. 

“You’re right, as far as it goes. An automaton’s first kiss is a tie that can’t be broken.” 

There’s a look of cold and distant contempt on his face as he reaches out — past Hades, dark eyes still fixing the god in place, like he knows he’ll be met. Knows who’s there, like he’ll always be there when he needs him. 

“It’s just that you’re not my first.”

Yeosang closes his fingers over Seonghwa’s and allows himself to be drawn in closer, eyebrows raised in silent scathing comment over the drama of it all. Seonghwa just smiles and pushes the nozzle of the flamethrower to one side with the tips of his fingers so that he can lean down and kiss the gold automaton with a delicate precision.

Well, fuck. Mingi really wants to hug them right now, but he’s kind of otherwise occupied.

Yunho moves again in his arms. “Help me geddup…” His voice is quiet, a little slurry, but there’s a stubborn determination on his face. “‘K, Mingi? Help me. Need t’ do somethin’...” 

Mingi slides his hand out from Yunho’s shirt and helps him swivel around to face Hades, who’s still watching the automata with a look of incredulous disgust. 

It’s clear that Yunho’s hands are still numb and not working at their best, so it takes him a few tries to pick up the twisted lumps of metal that used to be his necklace and bracelets. Mingi hadn’t noticed before, but he really broke them apart after getting them off Yunho. There’s little left there to recognize, just two chunks of bent and crumpled silver that nobody’s going to wear, ever again.

“Help me up?” Yunho’s got the jewelry and he’s blinking slowly at Mingi, still trying to focus properly, still too pale, but he’s on a mission and Mingi’s not about to get in his way.

“Can’t, rosebud, sorry.” He nods down at his leg, where he’s pretty sure one of the big gears has come loose from its train, maybe a tooth or two sheared off. His knee’s not moving right and he’s going to find it hard enough to get himself off the ground. The brace makes a whirring noise as he tries to flex it.

Yunho doesn’t so much lean into him as fall forwards onto his mouth to give him a cold, uncoordinated kiss. “‘K then, I got it.” 

He levers himself up using Mingi’s shoulders to brace him. He’s slow, but he gets there in the end. Hades watches him draw near, barely able to stay upright, and for once even with his aura of power and command, the lizard lord’s the one left looking small.

Yunho drops what’s left of the jewelry at his feet and Hades steps back away from it hastily. “It’s over. Y’done, okay? No more.” He’s swaying where he stands, but there’s enough strength in his voice to rival any of the Olympians right now. “You’ve got bigger things to worry ‘bout, anyway.”

“I’m not scared of your _mother_.” 

“Not my mother,” says Yunho. “Me, fucker.”

“Oh, you?” Hades’ trademark sneer makes an appearance, but it’s just the slightest bit uncertain. “What are you going to do to me? I’m quaking.”

“I’ve put a curse on you.”

“You’ve put a curse on me. The itsy bitsy cutesy little god of the spring. What, are my daffodils not going to grow? Is there going to be a harsh frost, perhaps?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that.” He sways and catches himself on Hades in an almost friendly fashion. Pokes at a button on Hades’ vest that has started to come loose and is dangling from a thread. “It was a dying curse, though. So thanks for that.”

Mingi starts to laugh, under his breath. Only Yunho could find the one bright side in a near death experience, come back clutching the silver lining in both hands. Because a dying curse isn’t the same as a regular curse, and whether he knows it yet or not, Hades is fucked. A dying curse isn’t going to care that Yunho’s just a small power, and that Hades is an Olympian. It’s going to mow him down just like one more blade of grass.

Mingi starts trying to lever himself to his feet despite whatever’s gone haywire in his leg, because he wants to take this bright, beautiful, impossibly alive boy home to kiss him till he forgets his own name. Yeosang joins him to lend an arm to his attempts to stand.

“What do you mean, a dying curse?” Hades pulls at the button falling from his vest, stares at it with its trailing thread like it holds some arcane answer.

“You killed me, good as, so now you gotta wear this. Your life’s gonna change, and y’not gonna like it.”

Hades backs away another step and his boot catches on something, a loose nail in the floorboard.

“Mess,” says Yunho, radiating a profound sense of satisfaction. “Untidiness. It’s gonna follow you wherever you go, whatever you do.” He advances a step and Hades backs away again, kicking free of the loose nail. Looking almost… clumsy. “Nothing straight-edged. Nothing in the right place.” He reaches out and ruffles Hades’ hair and the god of the Underworld actually _flinches_. “Nothing entirely neat and clean. Ever. Again.”

Seonghwa comes over to slip an arm around Yunho, supporting him as he sways in place, helping him swing around to face Mingi. “Okay, take me home.” He’s smiling sharper and brighter than the edge on Mingi’s warhammer. “We’re done. He’s done.”

Mingi leans heavily on Yeosang and manages to get his leg working enough to limp past Hades, who’s still staring at the button trailing its limp tail of string, hair in his eyes.

“So, Seonghwa,” he murmurs just loud enough for Yeosang to hear him, as they follow the others through the hall.

“Shut up.”

“First kiss, huh?”

“Shut _up.”_ But he’s smiling as he says it, that tight, careful little Yeosang smile that shows just the edges of his teeth, one hand up to his face as if to hide his happiness, something new and soft in his radiant amber eyes.

When they get outside, Mingi takes in the new landscape of the Twilight Realm; the piles of broken rock, the skeletal trees burned down to blackened stumps. The shades swirl around the wreckage of the fountain, investigating the destruction. 

And are those… weeds? Something that looks a lot like crab grass is starting to spread past the formerly razor sharp edges of the gravel path.

_Better get used to it, lizard lord._

There’s still Zeus to figure out, of course. He’s not going to be pleased they’ve torn up the Underworld and lifted Yunho out from under Hades’ thumb, but he’s not going to come to Hades’ defense either, not after the shit he pulled. They both run just a little wary of Demeter when she’s truly pissy.

On the other hand, there’s a difference between Zeus tolerating Yunho being free, and letting him visit Aetna. Letting them see each other at all. Mingi’s got what he wanted for now, though. Yunho’s out and safe. The rest can wait. 

It’s what he tells himself, anyway.

He whistles to the hellhound, who’s stopped just long enough to pee on what’s left of the fountain. Cerberus pads over to rejoin them, and he’d swear Fool Dog is smiling, wedge-shaped head split with a grin and tongue lolling happily. Together they make their way through the debris to the tunnel, following Yunho and Seonghwa. Headed home.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, happy new year and thank you so much for reading!!! I grow like a wee wildflower with the encouragement of kudos and comments so please, if you’ve enjoyed this at all, share the love — and feel free to come say hey on twt (@nelliedae)!
> 
> Lastly, wishing a healthy and happy year ahead for our beloved Mingi, who deserves as always the best of the best of the best!!!


	6. Spring: IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO YUNHO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw // brief discussion of historical abuse (Mingi’s childhood injury)
> 
> Fellas!!! here we are! thank you so so much for making it this far, and can I share with you this utter piece of delight that came my way over the weekend from the awfully talented @redgi_tanako who painted [Yunho, Mingi and Cerberus](https://twitter.com/redgi_tanako/status/1350223022637142019?s=21%20rel=)! 
> 
> Please check it out because not only will the happy smiles of Cerberus melt your heart, you all need to absorb the delicate way Mingi is holding his tiny wildflower as if it is the most beautiful and mysterious thing he’s ever had the good fortune to touch, and he’s kinda scared he’ll screw it up! Seriously, that wildflower is their relationship and it makes me so HAPPY!

Yunho knows he’s safely back in Aetna now, he really does. The last of the cold, the last stubborn remnants of the numbness are slowly soaking out of him in the hot water of the bath. His body feels great; it’s just his head that’s the problem.

He’s sitting nestled back against Mingi’s chest, steam drifting around them and the water all the way up to his shoulders. Mingi’s arms are wrapped loosely around him and one leg is hooked over his, so that he can feel the welcome touch of skin on skin all the way down his body as he warms up. He can reach out a hand and snag the last lone strip of honey pancake from the plate by his head, if he wants.

But even while he knows, he _knows_ he’s here and safe, there’s a part of him that’s not here, too. One last stubborn part of him is still in the freezing dark. Part of him is still in the Shroud. 

Part of him is still stuck unconscious and unable to wake up, being stripped down and dressed up like a dead little doll. Being caged up by the one person he used to think he could never earn, even if he tried his hardest to shine. He’s only aware that he’s shivering when Mingi leans even closer, tightens his arms. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, I got you. Yunho. You’re safe.”

It’s strange, strange but not bad, hearing his name in that voice when he’s used to hearing flowers. He can hear the care in it, the carefulness. It soaks in slowly, like the warmth of the water.

“You’re safe but that’s not all, because you’re better than safe now. I’m going to tell you what happens next, okay?” Mingi’s voice is a confidential lull, barely above a whisper. “You might not feel like it’s true yet and that’s fine, but you need to know that you’re never going back to the Underworld, ever again. You get to spend all your autumns and winters, every spring and summer where you want to, from now on. You get to see the sun every damn day, and eat the food you like every day, and there’s gonna be people all around you who’re happy to see you, and you know what else?”

He likes this story already. It almost feels like something he can lean on, can trust his weight to. It’s almost solid enough to feel real. Mingi’s fingers skate along his arms, dusting them with a gold that sinks right through into the last lingering coldness in his wrists. “Tell me what else.” 

“Okay, so you’re gonna be wearing clothes that fit you, clothes that make you look so fucking sexy and feel so comfortable and they’re all the colours you want them to be, all the best colours.”

He’s never going to wear black again. It was totally worth freezing his naked ass off wrapped in a blanket just to watch that last suit burn in Mingi’s monster furnace when they got back. Soft clothes and colours, yes, he wants those back. And his earrings, he wants those too. “Yeah, okay, what else?”

Mingi nuzzles up to the side of his head and kisses the damp hair over his ear. His voice is lower, more confidential. “Sometimes people are gonna plait your hair and you can keep that plait in as long as you like. There are parties and you can dance if you want, and there are so many people wanting to kiss you that there’s a queue down the street and they have to take tickets. It’s all waiting for you, peony, and nothing’s going to take that away from you now.”

He falls silent, and Yunho pulls his arms closer, tucks his chin into the solid warmth of Mingi’s bicep. “You got any more?”

He can hear the smile in Mingi’s words, and the vibration of his voice through the press of his face against Yunho’s head. “Okay, well…. you get to sleep in your own bed every night, under your patchwork quilt, in the room with the seeds growing and all the shiny jewelry and the heartbreakingly shitty picture of Cerberus. You get to sleep there alone if you want, or with anyone you want to take back there.”

 _Anyone you want._ And just like that, the chill’s right back in his bones and he has to swallow down his first painful response: yeah, but what if I want you? Do I get that too? 

Because he’s free as a bird, but Mingi’s sure as hell not. And yet here he is, the one who’s lost the most, a solid warmth at his back, a steady voice in his ear, arms tucked around him and talking him down. All while Yunho — who’s won back almost everything — is busy falling apart because he had to spend a little timeout in a cupboard under the stairs.

“Hey.” Mingi squeezes him gently. “You were just starting to relax, and now you’re all knotty again. Feels like I’m hugging Yeosang, and that’s all kinds of confusing.”

“I’m not leaving you down here,” he says. “It shouldn’t just be me getting to do all those things. I’m going to get you out of here. I promise.”

But even as he says it, he knows it’s next to impossible. There’s nothing he can do, not against Zeus. Not alone. He needs help. 

“Thanks,” says Mingi gently, like his offer’s worth anything at all. “Got Yeosang on it, too. Last I saw he was burning the last of the pancakes with his nose buried in a book. He thinks he’s onto something, maybe.”

Yunho remembers the feeling of Zeus in his room, in his clothes. In his _skin._ Yeosang’s going to need more than a book to go up against him; even the flamethrower’s going to be like throwing a pebble at the sun. They need help, someone with the firepower to take on the biggest asshole of the Olympians. 

He’s thinking Hecate. His ma, even. Then he remembers.

“Aphrodite. She said she’s going to try and figure something out, too. With Zeus.” The first faint stirring of hope starts to chase away the chill.

“Wait, you talked to Aphrodite? About me?” 

“She heard we met,” he says. “I think she wanted to check me out. Wanted to make sure my intentions were honorable, maybe?”

“She’s got her own problems with Zeus to handle. She doesn’t owe me anything, she needs to look out for herself.”

_That’s the Olympians, sneaky as fuck, selfish as fuck. Even your boy Mingi._

Nothing but certainty in her tone, and yet somehow they seem to keep looking out for each other anyway, Mingi and Aphrodite, as best they can. 

“I think she likes you,” he says. “If she wants to help, you should let her.” Gaea knows we need any help we can scrape together to fight this.

Mingi breathes a soft noise, not quite a laugh, almost a sigh. Yunho can just about feel the moment when he decides to let it go. “So, did you manage to reassure her? About your dishonorable intentions?”

He smothers a yawn, feeling a little better, a little warmer at the thought of one more Olympian on their side. “Hey, you haven’t even seen me at my best yet. I can be a lot more dishonorable than that. Promised to make you cry one day.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve got a whole drawerful of dishonor back in the garden. I was thinking about adding to it.” The _while you’re gone_ is silent, but Yunho hears it anyway, in the slight pause he leaves. “Got any requests, forget-me-not?”

You. I just want you.

But there’s something else nagging at him, something at the back of his mind. He can feel the shape of it, just not what it is. He lets his head fall back against Mingi’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He’s so tired and the water’s so soothing and this is the only place he wants to sleep right now, on a bed made of the warmest, softest and most comfortable Mingi. 

San… it’s something to do with San. Something he said.

_I found out a secret I could use against him._

Something he wouldn’t want Hera to know.

“San knows something we can use against Zeus,” he says, trying to keep himself awake even as another yawn makes his jaw crack. “Dunno what. I’ll ask him.”

“Yunho, please promise me you’re not going to go toe to toe with Zeus? You find out, you come to me. We figure out what to do with it together.”

Tiredness and frustration make him uncharacteristically pissy. “Yeah, that would work, if I could actually come to you. That’s the problem, remember?”

“We’ll figure out a way. He knows about the mirrors, so I won’t make new mirrors. Seonghwa can visit each week when he does the supply run. We can send letters. It’ll be—”

“Don’t you _dare_ tell me it’ll be fun,” says Yunho, with a savagery that surprises even him. “I don’t want you on a mirror, I don’t want to write you letters. I want _this._ ” He digs his fingers into Mingi’s arms, holds him there tightly. He can hear how irrational he sounds, but he just doesn’t care anymore.

“It’ll be _temporary_ ,” goes on Mingi, as he was never interrupted. “Because we’re going to fix this. He doesn’t get to win, not with this. We’ve got this. San’s secret, Aphrodite’s plan, whatever it takes.”

Yunho lets out his breath in a frustrated sigh, drops his head to rub his cheek on Mingi’s damp arm. “Sorry. The mirrors were kinda fun, I actually really liked them. I’m being an asshole, I’m just tired.”

“Why don’t you close your eyes? Get some sleep, I’ve got you. Promise I’ll keep your head above water.”

He really needs it. Needs the feeling that Mingi’s got his back while he sleeps, too, even though that’s not something he can afford to get used to, not yet. He can feel the mansion waiting for him in the dark, every time he closes his eyes. The mansion, and the Shroud.

He must have been drifting asleep after all though, because all of a sudden Seonghwa’s voice startles him awake. He can feel the low rumble of Mingi’s reply through his back, but he’s too out of it to take much in. There’s another voice, too, lighter. A woman’s voice.

Seonghwa’s holding up a small string wrapped bundle, about the size of his hand, and it takes him a long moment to process that the bundle’s… 

“It’s talking?”

“It’s my mirror,” says Mingi.

He’s so groggy, still, but he knows that’s not right. “Your mirror’s broken. Your hand’s broken. You cut it, on the glass.”

“She’s been asking for you,” says Seonghwa, holding the bundle out to Mingi. “I only heard it when I went into the workshop to tidy up.”

Yunho scrubs wet hands over his face to wake himself up, rubs at his gritty eyes. He shifts himself around so that he can see what’s happening as Mingi begins to unwrap the mirror. 

There’s barely any glass left, just a few jagged shards clinging to the dented metal backing, and all they reflect is the ceiling above them and a few brief glimpses of Mingi’s unsmiling face. The dried blood on the edges of the glass makes his stomach hurt. As the string unravels, the mirror speaks again and this time he recognises the voice, distant and crackly as it is.

“Aphrodite?”

“How are you doing that, how is that even working?” Mingi’s peering into the last fragments of glass. “Are you using Yunho’s mirror?”

“She can’t,” says Yunho. “Zeus melted it. It’s wrecked.”

“Making magical shit might be your thing, Mingi,” says Aphrodite’s voice, “but mirrors are mine. Goddess of love and beauty, baby. It knows what it used to be, it remembers the connection, it just needed a little nudge. A little sweet-talking.”

Yunho leans over the broken mirror. “Hey, if you’re at the house, can you tell them I’m safe? I left them a letter.”

“Oh, yeah.” There’s a laugh in her voice. “You’re going to hear words about that when you get back, they’re not so impressed. But yeah, I can tell them. Better still, come back home and tell them yourself.”

 _Come back home._ He gets to see the look on Mingi’s face up close this time, no mirror, no protective barriers. Sees for himself the way the emotions drop from his face like water vanishing away down a plughole, until he’s looking at expressionless face #3. Hurt. Hurt and hiding it, badly.

He reaches out to touch Mingi’s arm on pure instinct, not knowing if he’s going to get shrugged off. Yelled at, even, although maybe that’s just a Hades thing. But he does it anyway, because Mingi looks so alone, and he needs to know he’s not. Or not yet, anyway. There’s a pause, and even though Mingi still isn’t looking at him, his other hand comes up to cover Yunho’s fingers. Squeezes them lightly in acknowledgement.

“He’s headed back soon,” Mingi says, easy tone at odds with the bleakness of his face. “Just getting him back to room temperature first. There was trouble, with Hades.”

“ _Dickhead_. Okay, you can tell me about it when you get here.”

“I’ll be there soon,” says Yunho, and Mingi squeezes his fingers again.

“You better be, but I meant Mingi. I need you up here too.”

That surprises an expression onto Mingi’s face. A pinch of surprise. “I’m banned, hon. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know that. Babe. I want you up here anyway.

“You know what’s going to happen if I leave here.”

“Uhuh. Kind of counting on it, matter of fact.”

Mingi’s eyes meet his, honestly baffled. “Zeus isn’t going to sit things out if I leave Aetna. And if he comes to the house, you’re putting everyone in danger.”

She sighs like she’s already bored of the conversation. “That’s why I’ve evacuated everyone. Short of the two fools who seem to be wedded to the idea of seeing Yunho again when he sets foot through the door. Them I can’t shift.”

“You want Zeus at the house?” Mingi’s making one last effort to understand. 

Yunho’s heart is practically tripping over itself with confused joy at the thought of Mingi being able to come back with him, but the look on Mingi’s face screams caution. Danger. Imminent pain, in every expressionless line.

“You want this to be over, right?” Aphrodite doesn’t bother waiting for an answer. “I think we can take him. I think I know what we need to do to get him to back down — on Yunho, on the ban, everything. If you come up here, lure him in with your bad old rule-breaking self, I think we can finish this, once and for all.”

_____________________________

  
  


Aphrodite’s plan leaves Mingi feeling numb and weirdly unreal, like Yunho’s icy coldness has somehow leached into his bones despite the hot water they’ve been marinating in like two prawns in a soup.

Numbness is probably preferable to the pins-and-needles sting of hope, though, because he’s not sure he can deal with that particular feeling right now. Numbness keeps him moving, and he needs to keep moving.

At least Yunho’s looking a million miles better; puffy and tired, sure, but there’s colour in his cheeks again, alertness back in his eyes, his lips aren’t that scary bluish shade. His eyes, the pink flush of his cheeks, the way the corners of his mouth curve up whenever he looks at Mingi, his whole _face_ is something that Mingi can’t be looking at right now. It’s too much, it picks away at the numbness. 

Yunho’s safe, that’s the main thing. The rest of it, the tiny seed of hope that Mingi can finally get to make his own choices, that he can take some time to figure out what this is, the way he’s feeling? It’s just too much right now.

So he keeps himself busy fiddling with his second-best brace, now that his best brace is completely fucked and needs a whole lot of loving care that he doesn’t have the time for right now. It’s got gremlins, this brace, but it’s good enough to keep him upright and let him walk to the airfield without slowing them up. He keeps his head down adjusting the screws and clamps as tight as he can, and he tries not to look up any more than he has to. 

It’s no surprise when he hears that Yeosang’s coming with them, current reading material tucked under his arm like he’s planning to memorise it on the airship. “For back-up,” he says, when Yunho asks him what it is. Mingi assumes it’s some sort of law text, until he catches a glimpse of the gold-stamped cover. _On the Olympians_ , it reads. _Pertaining to their Epithets and Sacred Associations._

Seonghwa, well he seems to be a package deal now; where Yeosang goes he goes, and he’s still toting that longsword on his hip. There’s an ease to the way he carries himself these days that suggests he’s figuring himself out, and liking what he finds. He’s managed to talk Cerberus into letting him clip a leash to his collar, so that they can pretend he’s under control for the airship conductors. Nobody suggests leaving the hellhound behind, so they’re just going to have to talk their way onto the airship with him. Not gonna be their biggest problem of the night, most likely. 

The airship ride itself is one long blur, afterwards. He’s tired enough that he falls asleep on Yunho’s shoulder, despite the way his nerves are riding him the further away they get from Aetna. He wakes up seven hours later with his head on Yunho’s lap, drooling on his thigh, with Yunho sacked out against the wall. Both of them are half-covered by the thin little airship blankets that Seonghwa or Yeosang must have tucked over them.

The walk back to Hecate’s house from the airship field is silent. Seonghwa’s studying the stars and keeping half an eye on Yeosang, who’s reading as he walks. The silver automaton occasionally directs him wordlessly around puddles or pulls him back onto the road when he’s starting to wander into the woods without noticing. 

Yunho looks like he’s getting wound up tighter and tighter the nearer they get to his home, like he’s anticipating every terrible thing his brain can serve up. The last time he was home he had Zeus in his bedroom, so Mingi gets the fear. He makes himself reach out and take Yunho’s hand, and Yunho gives him a slightly startled smile, the grim look on his face easing up just a little. It’s worth the way that touching Yunho makes him feel right now — an unsettling mix of neediness and nerves — just to see the wild-eyed look leave his face somewhat.

Cerberus is a welcome distraction; he’s never been above ground before, and he’s madly in love with everything he sees and smells and hears. Terrier has his golden eyes trained on the road ahead and he’s snuffling at everything on the path, every muddy carriage wheel rut, every fallen leaf. Sweetheart’s still carrying the souvenir the conductor handed him at the end of the trip, a little toy wooden airship that they usually hand out to fractious kids. Fool Dog’s suspicious eyes are fixed upwards at the moon, like he’s expecting an attack any second. 

Mingi’s feeling it, too. Even without the threat of Zeus looming, the sight of that big sky above them is a lot to take in after forty years underground. He keeps his eyes low, fixed on the hellhound. Just occasionally, too, on Yunho’s fingers threaded between his own. He hopes Yunho can’t feel the way his hand’s shaking, doesn’t want to freak him out. It’s not even Zeus… it’s just the size of the _sky_.

Yunho’s fingers clamp down on his, though, as the first glimpses of Hecate’s boarding house appear through the trees. It’s a dull silvery grey in the moonlight, all weathered boards and wide dark windows under a sloping roof of wooden shingles. Even from a distance, it’s far bigger than he thought it would be; maybe three storeys high and sprawling out from the main body of the house into a couple of long rambling wings. It looks utterly abandoned tonight, just one lone lamp hanging on the front porch and swaying gently in the wind.

They’re making their way across the overgrown front lawn when the doors open and two figures come racing out. Seonghwa braces himself as Cerberus leaps to meet them with a baying howl and Mingi stops dead as the two of them throw themselves at Yunho. He gets flashes of colour and noise; pretty hair the colour of lilacs (he knows those flowers, he’s learnt their name), a fierce glance from the dark-haired nymph that seem to judge him in one hot second, a clamour of voices that makes him back up a step from the sheer chaos.

“You left us a _letter_ , you asshole! What the _hell_?!”

“You never came down for dinner and then we found your window open and we thought Hades got you! Fuck, Yunho, you could have told us!”

There’s so much yelling that it takes him a moment to register that it’s not actually hostile. By that stage, they’re wrapping Yunho up in chatter and hugs and kisses, lots of kisses. So many kisses. He can feel the crazy tension of the last few days riding in his every muscle, knotting him up like stone. 

He’s looking away, trying to give them space, when he catches Aphrodite’s eye. She’s leaning against the porch railing, shooting him a sympathetic smirk as she lets Cerberus snuffle at her fingers. Mingi’s doing his best to keep his face schooled, but he’s got that old familiar feeling she can read him like the world’s most predictable book. 

He can’t help but look back at Yunho, wrapped up in his friends’ arms, looking so happy, so at home. That’s what gets him; the way they so clearly know each other inside out and back to front. 

It’s the way Lilac Hair has his face smushed so hard into Yunho’s chest that he looks like he shouldn’t be able to breathe, and Yunho’s big hands are travelling up and down his back soothingly. It’s the cheerful blush on Yunho’s face as he smiles down at the dark-haired nymph and twists sideways so he can kiss him and stop his scolding. Mingi would lay odds that it’s one of these two who plaited his hair that night. Messed up his makeup. 

Of course, he knew Yunho had friends, good friends. Someone like Yunho makes friends everywhere he goes and it’s good, it’s how it should be. It’s just, seeing it, hearing it. For a brief moment he wishes he was back in Aetna, where everything makes sense and he doesn’t have to deal with Feelings.

“Wait. Wait!” Lilac Hair has a voice that draws attention. It’s bright and loud and verging on harsh, but somehow friendly at the same time. “This is him? This is him!” 

He’s advancing on Mingi all of a sudden, until Yunho pulls him to a halt with a hand tangled in the back of his shirt.

“Woo! Wait, oh for the love of Gaea. Sorry,” he says to Mingi. It’s like watching Yeosang try to wrangle Cerberus. “Yes, this is Mingi. No, don’t leap on him, just say hi. He saved my life, we’re gonna be nice to him. Mingi, this is Wooyoung, and that’s San.”

“What the fuck, I was gonna be nice to him! What do you think I was going to do?”

But maybe Mingi’s not looking at his most bubbly, warm and huggable self right now because Wooyoung’s stopped dead in his tracks.

“Yunho? He looks… scary.”

Yunho takes one quick look at him. “Mingi, you good? Sorry, I know it’s a lot.”

“Wait — he saved your _life_? Why did your life need saving?”

There’s a loud whistle that just about sends Mingi out of his skin but the talking cuts off like a switch has been flipped and everyone’s staring at Aphrodite.

“We’ve got Zeus, incoming anytime. Let’s everybody just calm the fuck down, okay? Come inside, take a seat.” She leads the way into the house, through the dark hallway to a cosy-looking lounge that looks like it’s big enough to host a reunion of all of the maenads and satyrs from Dionysus’ train. 

“It’s so weird seeing this place empty,” murmurs Yunho. He ducks a glance back at Mingi. “Reminds me of the mansion.” Mingi’s about to reach out for his hand again when the dark-haired nymph — San — pulls him over to one of the couches. San and Wooyoung pile on, practically sitting on each other, and San tugs Yunho down to sit next to them. 

Mingi’s just hovering, doing his _very_ best not to let anything show on his face, when Yunho looks around for him. 

“Mingi!” He scoots further back on the deep cushions of the couch, pats the cushion beside him. “C’mere. If you want. Please?”

He feels a little tap on his back just getting him in motion, looks back to frown at Aphrodite. He gives her his best _Back off, Love Goddess_ stare, but he goes to sit with Yunho anyway. It’s where he wants to be, and now that he’s not outside under that giant sky anymore, he actually is starting to think of Zeus for the first time.

Cerberus’ low growl is all the warning he gets.

Like Mingi’s fear has summoned him — which isn’t impossible — he’s abruptly there amongst them, in the middle of the lounge. So nondescript in his grey suit, blandly handsome without being needlessly flashy about it. He’s such a nobody, Mingi’s father, until you look him in the eyes. They’re like butchers’ hooks, those dark eyes, all dull tarnished utility and cold menace. Beside him, Yunho makes a small, hurt noise and Mingi slides an arm around him, shifting them slightly so he’s in front. He’s the target.

It’s Mingi he’s looking at, anyway. His misbehaving boy, breaking out of jail fifty years too soon.

“Hello, son. I could have sworn that there were a few more years on the clock before any of us needed to see your face again. Are you sure you want to defy my ban? You know what happens when you’re somewhere you’re not wanted.”

All it takes is his voice and Mingi’s a child again; skinny, ugly, hurting and so confused. So unsure what he’d done to make this ultimate punishment happen.

“Best head home, son.” _While you can._ His old fall from Olympus is right there for him in Zeus’ eyes. The endless sky, the screaming of the wind in his ears and the unforgettable agony of impact. The way the pain ate up his whole world.

“I asked him here,” says Aphrodite. She’s sitting on the arm of one of the couches, bouncing her foot nervously but her voice is steady enough. “He’s staying until we get this sorted out.”

Zeus sounds deceptively mild. “But it _is_ sorted out, sweetheart. He’s banned, he stays out of sight. He doesn’t get hurt.”

He’s looking past Mingi at Yunho. “And as for you, I really thought I was clear enough before, sunshine.” He prowls in front of them like heat haze on a hot road. “You need to stay away from him. He has a wife, and though she may choose to forget it whenever it suits her, she has a husband. You’re irrelevant. Surplus to requirements. You’re no part of this.”

“Wait.” Unexpectedly it’s Yeosang who speaks up, still cradling that big leather book to his chest. “Legally, that may not exactly be true.” He unfolds himself from the couch, looking slight and elegant and almost impossibly brave. Mingi’s either going to throw his arms around him and hug him hard, or yell at him for drawing that deadly gaze. Maybe both.

Zeus’ head swings round to focus on him. “Pardon.” It’s not a question, it’s a warning. Yeosang looks back at Seonghwa for a moment, and whatever he sees there pushes him onwards. He’s frowning a little, with the same absolute concentration that he brings to beating Mingi at petteia. 

“Yunho, you married Hades of your own free will, right?”

Mingi’s got no idea where Yeosang is going with this, but he can feel the tension running through Yunho, pressed up against his side. “Yeah,” he says. “Not my smartest move ever, but yeah.”

“And you could have ended the marriage, left Hades, any time you wanted. Except for one thing. One tiny thing.” He looks over at Yunho, smiling so that just the pointed tips of his teeth show. “Six tiny things, actually.”

“The seeds,” says Yunho. 

“And not just any seeds, right? These were special seeds. They were pomegranate seeds.”

Zeus’ voice is quiet but full of a low threat. “If you have a point, make it now, automaton.”

“Pomegranate seeds symbolize the commitment to marriage. That’s why he had to stay, that’s what Hades argued when Demeter challenged him. But do you know why they symbolize marriage in the first place? Apart from the association with virginal blood, which I’m not about to delve into?”

There’s an intake of breath from the other couch, and the start of a chuckle that gets louder and more helpless. Aphrodite.

“They’re mine,” she says. “Oh, Gaea. Pomegranates are _mine_.”

Yeosang nods. “They’re sacred to Aphrodite, goddess of love. So, if eating the pomegranate seeds weds Yunho to anyone, it’s her. He ate her sacred food.”

Mingi feels the breath rush out of him even as the flickering strands of lightning starts to gather, faint and ominous, around Zeus’ clenched hand. For the first time, his voice raises a little. “That’s ridiculous. So you’re saying that anyone who eats pomegranates is automatically married to Aphrodite? How the fuck’s that even supposed to work?”

“Not anyone!” Aphrodite’s wiping at her eyes, still with that look of tickled good humour. “Just the ones I say yes to. And if you’re asking, Yunho, the answer’s yes. I will deadass marry you, same terms as I gave Mingi.”

By which he guesses she means _friends_. The occasional visit. An ally, if needed. She may not be his kind of special, but he sure as shit loves her right now.

Zeus’ voice is working its way up to a dangerous rumble. “What, I suppose you’re going to have your other bedmates eat pomegranates too? Marry them all? Ares, and that slutty little nymph who thinks she’s a poet?”

“Nomia? Probably not, to be honest. Nah, those others are just for fun. Yunho, he’s a keeper. I mean, seriously. Just look at him.” 

She beams at Yunho, who’s looking… stunned. Pale as one of Hades’ ghosts. He turns to Mingi, who looks away because all of a sudden he’s scared to find out what he’ll see there. They’ve trapped Yunho into this, and he’s going to go along with it to help Mingi, because that’s who he is.

But even as he looks away, Yunho’s head leans up against his and one hand curls warm and reassuring around Mingi’s thigh, thumb stroking along the edge of the brace. It’s enough to remind him that whatever happens tonight, they’re in this together. Whatever it is.

But Zeus isn’t done with them. “You can’t marry more than one person, that’s impossible. That’s not how it works.”

Help comes from a totally unexpected source: Yunho’s friend, San. “What if there’s a precedent?” He’s visibly trembling and he’s got one arm around Wooyoung’s waist so hard that his knuckles are white where they grip onto the nymph’s shirt. His voice is steady though, and the look he gives Zeus is cutting. “What if I could name another god who’d got married more than once at the same time?”

Zeus tilts his head like a reptile, lets his eyes settle quite deliberately on Wooyoung and then back to San. “ _Really_?”

“If there’s a precedent, we could argue it in a court of law,” says Yeosang. “In front of Hera. The goddess of marriage. Your lovely wife.” The automaton pauses to let that sink in, still wearing that fiercely delicate smile. “Especially if this was a god of, say, high status. Someone who sets the standard for others.”

This time, the silence is deafening, broken only by the hum of lightning around Zeus’ fists. He’s clenching and unclenching his hands like he’s doing some sort of exercise, lighting crackling between his white knuckles. His tone’s dropped back to its original mildness when he speaks again, but Mingi’s under no illusions that things haven’t just got exponentially more dangerous for them all. “So. This _marriage_. The three of you lovebirds, you’re going to live happily ever after in my son’s little underground love nest?”

“Actually, I thought we could live here.” Aphrodite gestures around at the boarding house. “I like this place, it’s got a lot of heart.” She slumps down next to Wooyoung on the couch, puts an arm around his shoulders. He snuggles into her as she reaches past him to stroke the back of San’s head, idly. “Did you know? I’m part owner, now, too. Had a chat to Hecate and Demeter, went in thirds with them. They liked the idea of having one of us more permanently around here to keep an eye on things.” She grins over at Mingi. “They’re gonna like it even better with both of us here taking care of it.”

“No. He’s banned.” Zeus is recovering fast. It’s the _my word is law_ voice that they all jump to obey. He’s trained them all so well, and even now Mingi can feel the chill of adrenaline rushing through him at the flat sound of it. “You can stay, with your harem of offcasts and charity cases, but he knows exactly where he belongs. It’s the only reason I’m here today. To put him back in his place.”

This is it. The ban’s the one thing left that they can’t fight, not unless Aphrodite’s plan comes good. Yunho tightens his hand on Mingi’s leg like he’s going to keep him there by sheer will. “You can’t just ban him for some bullshit reason,” he says. 

“What do you know of my reasons, you _nobody_?” Zeus’ voice is a menacing hiss. “Who are you to judge my reasons? Actually, no. No, let me share them with you. I think Mingi needs to hear this too.”

Mingi’s whole stomach drops and he just wants to curl up and hide. That voice, he remembers that voice so well from all those years ago. Relentless and cold as knives and so so logical, the voice he heard just before his fall from Olympus. The clinical sound as his father listed all the many reasons why Mingi needed to be dropped off the side of a cliff.

“Yes, I fabricated a story about Mingi selling weapons to the Titans, but do you know why? Because I was ashamed. Of my own son, ashamed.”

Mingi feels Yunho’s face press into the side of his neck but it’s little more than a distant pressure, he’s gone so cold all over. 

“We’re gods. More than that, we’re Olympians. We’re perfect in every aspect. All except him. The _freak_. The misfit. Look at him. Even before that,” he says, with a casual gesture at Mingi’s leg. “He was never right. Hera was embarrassed to have him around.”

“That’s not true!” Aphrodite’s voice rings in his ears and he closes his eyes at the anger. There’s too much anger in the room, crackling like a storm. “She loves him! She’s always loved him.”

“She doesn’t go and visit him though, does she? Because she’s happier now that he’s gone.”

“Mingi, don’t listen to him. I know she loves you. She never shuts up about you. She’s so proud of you.”

“Proud of what he makes, surely. But proud of _him?_ Of her freakish boy, living under a rock, with few friends and no life to speak of?” Zeus has stopped right in front of him and his quiet, cutting voice carries perfectly. “The better part of you is the part you crafted from metal. The rest of you is just an ugly waste of space. You’re better off out of sight, and I think that deep down you’ve always known that. When your hundred years is up, it’ll be my profound delight to find some new reason to save your mother her shame.”

There’s something digging into his hand and he realises that Yunho’s nails are cutting into his skin, right where the cuts from the mirror are. The pain is bracing, like a slap. He looks up and Yunho’s dark eyes are fixed on his. He’s so angry, but he’s reining it under control for now. He’s waiting on Mingi, waiting to see what he needs to do with this. 

Beyond Yunho, Aphrodite shifts to get his attention, checking in on him. She has her plan, but she’s waiting too. Giving him his chance.

“What about you?” His voice is tiny, broken, like he’s hearing himself from a distance. 

“What about me _what?_ Am I ashamed?”

“Are you proud?”

“Of you?”

“Of what I make.” He clears his throat, tries again, a little louder. “Are you proud of the things I make?”

“What do you mean, am I proud? They’re useful. I use them. I’m not _proud._ ”

“But you do use them. Right? The things you ask me for, the things I’ve made you.”

“I suppose. What, you want my praise? For doing the only thing in this world you’re any good at?”

“Oh, it’s really not the only thing,” says Yunho, beside him. He slaps a hand to his mouth, looks an apology at Mingi with eyes curved like crescents. “Sorry.” His voice is muffled. Absurdly, it gives Mingi the heart to go on. His voice is a little louder when he continues.

“So you’re not proud of the Aegis?” It’s the scaled shield he made to Zeus’ exact specifications, with the embossed gorgon’s head and its mess of writhing snakes. _I need it to strike terror into anyone who looks at it._ It’s completely over the top but it’s bluntly effective in a fight. “I heard what you did to Athena that time she brought it back with a dent on it.”

“The Aegis? It’s functional.”

So functional that he’s never loaned it to Athena again, even though Yeosang tells him she’s always asking for it. It hangs in pride of place above Zeus’ throne, in the palace that Mingi also designed. The palace with the golden plumbing and the underfloor heating, because the world would surely end in flames if the Olympian toes were to get cold in the morning.

“Okay then, what about the thunderbolts? The Cyclopes and I worked our asses off on redesigning those so they’d regenerate in the field. You know, the ones with enough firepower to stop the Titans when they eventually get loose from Tartarus? You’re not proud of those?” He can hear his voice rising, and he lets it. Lets his father hear the edge of his own anger, for a change. “You’ve never posed for a statue or a painting with them in your hand?”

“What’s your point, son? I’m guessing there is a point?”

“The point is, it’s a choice for me too. Aphrodite gets to choose who she marries.” He’s feeling brave enough to shoot a small smile her way, but his whole body is as taut as a bowstring. “And I get to choose who I make shit for. It’s not a right. The palace you live in. All your comforts, all the things that you use to impress the rest of the world. Everything that keeps you safe from becoming ancient history like the Titans, it all comes from me. I make things for you now, but I can…” He stops to wipe his sweaty hands on his legs, wraps his hand around Yunho’s and squeezes hard for courage. “I can take that away, anytime. You need me more than I need you.”

He wants to throw up. He clamps his jaw on the need to keep babbling, just holds his father’s eyes and refuses to let them drop, even though it’s stealing all his air. As if from a long way away he feels Yunho bury his face against the side of his head and kiss his hair. His voice is the softest whisper. “Is it bad that I find it hot watching you fuck him up like that?”

Mingi laughs and ducks his head. Just like that, he can breathe again. Yunho’s his fresh air. Face it, Yunho’s pretty much his everything.

Yunho gives Mingi a moment to make sure he’s got nothing more to say, before he takes up the fight, eyes still bright with anger. “Remember what it was like when my mother withheld summer, when she couldn’t get me back from the Underworld? No food for your worshippers, no crops to feed the animals that they sacrifice to you? People got really unhappy, really fast. You thought she’d get pissed off if you turned me into a flower, so how do you think she’s going to feel about the fact you handed me over to Hades and he killed me dead? If you think the curse I laid on Hades was bad, I bet Demeter’s curse has a lot more behind it, and I know who she’s going to blame.”

Wooyoung’s the next one to pick up the thread. He’s got one arm around Aphrodite and the other around San and looks shaky but sincere as hell, and utterly fed up. “Hecate’s a bitch, and I say that with all the love in my heart. Seriously, I would not want the goddess of magic and dreams pissed off with me, you know what I mean? And she’s gonna be pretty mad you’ve been weaseling your way in here all dressed up in someone else’s skin. Coming into her house, fucking around with her people, making her look weak. I hope you like bad dreams, because she’s not gonna let you sleep easy ever again when she finds out.”

Aphrodite leans forward, the last to speak. She looks like everything he ever fell in love with way back when he built the garden for her. It’s the same qualities he sees in Yunho, he realises now; the brightness, the life, the laughter in her eyes. The bravery to face down a tyrant, even when he seems to hold all the cards. 

“You thought we were finished, huh, but I’ve got something else for you to add to the math here. If you thought you were mad when Mingi cockblocked you on the train, imagine what a total sex drought would look like. Nobody ever opens their legs for you ever again, no one ever blows the white swan. Because sure, pomegranates are mine, and mirrors too, but you know what else is? I’m the goddess of smut, _sunshine_. The queen of spice. Also the patron of the not-so-humble hard on, just saying.” Her eyes are round with mischief. “Oh my goodness, just imagine! Never getting hard again. So that’s no more happy dreams, no more worship from mortals, no more big pointy weapons to smite your enemies or armour to protect your ass … and no more fucking nookie. Ever. Again.”

Zeus is completely still as he regards them all. The lightning around his hands has died down, but it feels like nothing so much as the eye of the storm, the rage still waiting to fall on them from above. “Is this war?”

“No, dad, this is _peace_ ,” says Mingi. “This is all we’ve ever wanted. Just for you to leave us alone.”

“I’m going to get Yeosang to draw up an agreement,” says Aphrodite, into the silence. “I’ll bring it to you in Olympus. We want this land, this house, covered by a treaty. Everyone here is safe from you and the others, from anyone who wants to prey on them. They come here, they’re safe. And you never visit, any gods visiting here have to get permission from Mingi or me. We’re going to defend this place, and you know we can. Four Olympians protecting it? We can keep it safe.”

“A safe haven.” Zeus tastes the words, hums. “A place of peace.” He looks around the room at the remainder of the hand-made crepe streamers from the last party, the piano with the missing keys, the wax remains of candles sitting fat and melted on the tables stained with rings from coffee mugs. “Alright. You bring your agreement. I’ll sign it.”

Aphrodite looks at him, momentarily taken aback. Mingi’s still waiting for whatever’s coming next.

“This is your safe house,” he continues. “If people make it here, they’re yours. They’re safe. But outside, dear ones — outside, they’re mine. They’re ours. The hunt continues. And it’s a wide, wide world. A whole happy hunting ground. It’s only fair that we give our prey that small sniff of hope. A place where they can taste freedom.” He smiles. “It makes the pleasure that much sweeter when we catch them.”

With that he’s gone, leaving only a crackle of lightning in the air. The faint smell of burning. A couple of black streaks on the carpet to join the countless cigarette burns already there.

“He can’t just use the door,” says Mingi shakily. “I fucking hate that guy.” 

“Is that it?” Wooyoung sounds stunned, and Mingi truly doesn’t blame him. “Did we win?”

“I think?” San sounds equally shaky. “C’mere.” He kisses Wooyoung hard and Mingi gets that, too. Sometimes… sometimes all you can say is that you’re still alive. Still getting to share space with the ones you care about. Happy to have them safe, holding onto them for dear life.

“It’s just one place, though,” says Yeosang. He’s looking around him with a faint frown.

“It’s a start,” says Seonghwa, petting Sweetheart’s head where the dog’s sprawled out at the automaton’s feet. “We need to start somewhere. Yesterday, he had all the rights in the world, and today he’s got one fewer. But we don’t stop there, we chip away and chip away. We’ve got time, and patience.”

“There’s gonna be a limit to the number of people we can fit here, though,” says Aphrodite. “I mean, folks like shacking up and sharing a bed, but there’s still a limit.”

“I might be able to help,” says Mingi. “I can shift Aetna here. I mean, not the volcano, but the workshops. Everything I’ve built down there. It’s big. Bigger than you’ve seen.” He glances sideways at Yunho, shrugs. “All I mean is, if you want to, we can build downwards too. He said we’ve got the land, so.”

Yunho’s looking at him with that alert curiosity he’s starting to know well, when an idea catches his interest. “You can shift Aetna? Like, the whole place?”

“He’s an Olympian,” says Aphrodite. “A highly motivated Olympian. If Mingi wants to drag his whole underground warren to a new location just so he doesn’t have to travel so far to work, he’s gonna find a way.”

“I don’t have to live up here, though,” says Mingi quickly. “I mean, I can stay down there too. I’ll still be a deterrent. It’d just be nice to be able to visit sometimes.” 

He’s painfully aware that it’s just Aphrodite’s assumption that he’s going to be moving in, and that he can’t treat it like it’s an invite, like he’s welcome anytime he wants. This is Yunho’s home. Yunho’s and San’s and Wooyoung’s, and even Aphrodite kinda looks like she belongs here too, especially now she’s part-owner of the whole house. 

And maybe there’s a little, just a little of Zeus’ disgust still ringing in his ears. The last thing he wants is for anyone to feel like they need to take him in now, just because they feel sorry for him with his shithouse family and his forty years spent underground. He’d rather spend the next forty years back in the cave than be some kind of weird pity housemate that everyone’s too nice to get rid of.

When Yunho pulls himself free from the couch, Mingi feels the loss of that warm weight beside him, the comfort of the hand on his leg. Yunho takes his hands, being careful of the open cuts on his knuckles. 

“Can you come with me? I want to show you something.”

He pulls Mingi up off the couch and takes him away through the lounge. The last glimpse Mingi has of Aphrodite, she’s reaching for a crystal decanter up on the mantlepiece. The stopper chatters against the decanter with the way her hands are shaking, and he wants to let her know she did _so_ good standing up to Zeus. She raises the drink to him in a toast and takes a long swig, and he thinks maybe she knows.

The two nymphs are too busy with each other to even notice them leaving. There’s a sweet lack of urgency about the way they’re kissing, hands moving lazily across each other’s bodies; it looks like a celebration of safety, of relief that they’re all still alive and kicking.

On the other couch, Seonghwa’s patiently introducing Cerberus to one of Hecate’s black hounds. Even Fool Dog looks intrigued by this weird single-headed animal, and his mouth’s fallen open in that rare, goofy smile. Yeosang is already starting to scribble notes for what’ll probably be the new agreement on the back of something that looks like sheet music. He raises a hand in farewell without even looking his way.

Yunho doesn’t let go of his hand as they make their way through the dark hallway into a big sunny kitchen, and out of the screen door onto the back porch of the house. He doesn’t seem inclined to talk, and that’s fine. Mingi’s not sure what he’d say anyway. He still feels like he’s stuck in some weird hazy half-dream, like he’s not entirely sure what just happened.

Outside, the day’s dawned beautiful and still while they were meeting with Zeus. The early morning sky is so wide above them that it makes him a little dizzy again, looking at that expanse of silvery blue. He really had forgotten how big it was. He looks down to try and ground himself, where the pale green meadow grasses are as high as his knees in places, still the slightest bit wet with dew. There are little flowers with dusty blue petals speckled amongst them, and it’s probably thanks to Yunho that he wonders what they’re called.

When Yunho finally stops they’re in a spot that looks like any other out here. Grass, big sky. Little blue flowers.

“Can you hear them?” Yunho’s face is turned skywards and the look on his face makes Mingi’s heart ache. He’s so _happy_. He turns to Mingi, still with that contagious smile lighting up his face. “Skylarks, listen to them.”

He has to close his eyes to listen, partly because the sky is making him dizzy, partly because looking at Yunho is making him dizzy. The birdsong is a wild, swooping thing, high and free and playful. There’s more than one of them, and their songs thread in and out of each other like wires on a circuit board, bright and electric. Like joy.

“I always come out here on my first day back each year, so I can tell myself I’m home for real. Just me and the dogs, and the birds.” 

Yunho’s voice is so calm and quiet beneath the sweet, soaring chaos of the birdsong. Mingi opens his eyes because this feels like something that’s important to Yunho, and he doesn’t want to look like he’s falling asleep on him, even though he practically is. Yunho’s friendly brown eyes are as calm as his voice, and they hold him awake effortlessly. Hell, they practically stop him breathing, if he’s honest.

“I just wanted to say... I know how much you love your home, Mingi. Aetna’s amazing. There’s not a piece of it you haven’t poured your whole heart into. And I know you’re not really big on change, either, and this place can be a lot. The nymphs, the noise. Not gonna lie, there are a lot of parties and you’d find it hard to think sometimes. So if you want to live down in Aetna once you shift it, I get it. It’s your home. But I just wanted to show you, it can be like this as well.” 

He shifts closer to Mingi, still holding his hand, bumps his shoulder against Mingi’s. 

“There’s quiet places, too. And I don’t know, maybe we could build a space for you up in the house, your own bedroom, if you wanted that. But my room’s pretty quiet, too, if you stuff enough sweaters along the door.” 

He’s not looking at Mingi any more. Right now, he seems absorbed in the little blue flowers in the grass at their feet. 

“I’m rambling, sorry. All I meant was… I get it if you'd rather stay with how things were, living down in Aetna, but my room’s yours, if you want it.” His voice shakes, just a little. “And I’m yours. If you want me.”

Mingi freezes. His hand’s so sweaty all of a sudden, but the last thing he wants to do is drop Yunho’s hand to wipe it on his trousers. Really not gonna give the right message. Courage. This is Yunho, he deserves nothing less.

“You know what? This was easier through a mirror, when I was very, very drunk.” His voice sounds faint, like he’s had all the air punched out of him. “ _Yes._ Yes, I would like… all those things. So, so much. I might have to spend a lot of time down in Aetna still, but yes to you, yes to your room.” 

He’s about to go on, no idea what he was about to say but Yunho swoops on him with a relieved laugh, teeth hitting his in a hard, clumsy kiss that takes him completely by surprise. He squeaks as Yunho inadvertently grabs hold of his injured hand.

“Sorry! Sorry, I just thought… I really thought you were gonna say no. I thought I was gonna have to break out the Sweetheart pout.”

“You were what now?”

Yunho’s eyes go big and bright as his lower lip puffs out cutely and for a moment, for such a big guy, he looks so small and defenceless and it’s _appalling_. 

“No!” says Mingi, trying to push Yunho’s head back out of that pleading tilt and his features back into their right alignment. “Mother of Titans, snowdrop, just no! If you _ever_ do that again, I’m definitely staying in Aetna.”

“Can’t promise.” Yunho pulls him close and kisses him again, swings him back and forth, and Mingi can feel the relief still radiating off him. There’s little of the usual skill and heat in the way he kisses, just an endearing intensity that’s doing more than any words ever could to make him feel wanted. Needed. Maybe even loved? Yeah, maybe even that. He lets himself disappear into the sensation of Yunho’s lips on his, the soft swipe of his tongue in his mouth, the way they’re pressing so close to each other now that he can feel how fast Yunho’s heart is beating under his hand. 

Yunho leans his forehead against Mingi’s. “Wanna go back inside?”

Above them, the skylarks are still going wild but it’s the only sound in the beautiful stillness of the meadow. “Can we stay out here? Just for a while.”

“Sure, if you want.” Yunho slides his hands around Mingi’s waist and leans back to look at him with a teasing smile. “You know, I really thought we’d scared you off. Me and Woo and San, I mean. I love those guys, but they’re a lot.”

“Ah, clearly I’m gonna have to show you I’m not made of glass, peony. The crew on Dionysus’ train threw me an orgy when I had to leave, you think a couple of nymphs are going to scare me off? Please, I could eat them for breakfast.”

Yunho perks up noticeably at that, and Mingi files the idea away to explore sometime. Interesting.

“You’ll just have to give me a little while, I’m kind of out of practice with people. With noise. With everything. Your room, though, the sweaters against the door? A petteia rematch or two? Oh, yes, and I’ve got some ideas for forfeits, too. All I’ll need is that drawer in the bed, back at Aetna.”

He’s close enough to see Yunho’s eyes darken, the way he tries and fails spectacularly to look unmoved by that.

Now that he’s not going to be busting his ass making weapons and armour, he’s going to have time for a couple of special projects. Taking Yunho apart, dismantling that calm piece by piece? It feels like a worthy mission. Something he can throw his creative skills behind. His fingers are already itching for his paper and pens. Maybe it’s time to head back, after all.

“They were designed with Aphrodite in mind, though, so I’m gonna have to overhaul them.” 

He holds Yunho at arm’s length and takes his time running his eyes across him, up and down. It’s meant to be smooth and scientific, but he keeps getting sidetracked by all the places he wants to touch, to stroke. To taste. He’s not so distracted that he doesn’t see the way he’s affecting Yunho, though. Poor baby needs to remember to breathe. 

“Of course, knowing your body a little better can only help the design process. Finding out what you respond to most. Being as thorough as I can, testing and retesting, till I have every piece of available evidence. You know, for science.”

“Science,’ says Yunho, faintly. “I love science. Wait, is that inventor face or horny face? Is that a new one? Is that _both_?”

Mingi just laughs and reaches for his hand. “Come on, dove petals, let’s go do some science.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading, I love you all SO MUCH and we should all meet up for blanket forts and (well-clothed) board games and Woo’s nacho salad sometime!!!
> 
> You may or may not have noticed that the chapter count crept up yet again 😲 and this is because I’ve got a wee short epilogue I’m working on! I’ll have it up by the end of the week, and it won’t be chapter length, just something short and sweet to end it on!
> 
> Promise I’m not one of those authors who comes back with the epilogue from hell to turn everyone into zombies or bring Zeus back to pillage and burn! There is cake (no lie)! No really, there’s cake 💖


	7. Summer: A Rose For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, folks, the epilogue. Kinda the end, but kinda the beginning too. Hope you enjoy!!! BIG NYMPH KISSES FOR EVERYONE 💕

Yunho’s not surprised any more when San goes out on a supply run and comes back with a new housemate on the box seat of the wagon. It’s been a couple of months since the agreement was signed, and word’s getting out about Hecate’s house and its protected status. According to San there are more than a few people out there quietly spreading the word, Demeter and Hera amongst them.

San helps their newest guest down off the wagon, and Aphrodite’s already out on the front lawn to greet her. The nymph’s long wet dress is clinging to her legs under the blanket San’s wrapped her in and her teeth are still chattering despite the summer sunshine. Black hair hangs in bedraggled rats’ tails down her back.

“This is Daphne,” says San as he starts to unharness the horses. “Had a run-in with Apollo.”

“I’d heard the stories about this place,” says Daphne, shivering as water drips down the goosebumps on her bare legs and feet. “Saw the way things were headed with that shithead and took off running. Got as far as the river and just went in, headfirst, swam till my arms gave out. Figured he wouldn’t want to mess up his hair fishing me out.”

“I don’t blame you not wanting a piece of that,” says Aphrodite, unloading the first of the sacks of flour. “That boy does not know how to hear no.” 

“It’s not just him, I tried to tell him.” She moves to help Aphrodite and Yunho with the sacks, juggling the blanket awkwardly. “I’m not interested in _anyone_ like that, but he didn’t get it, he just wouldn’t shut up, kept following me everywhere, just watching me and waiting.” 

She’s wearing a look of glazed calm that Yunho recognises from his own mirror back in the day, like she’s pretty close to cracking completely. He meets Aphrodite’s eyes and tips his head towards the house. The goddess offloads a sack of sugar to him and comes over to wrap an arm round Daphne. 

“Come on, you look beat, I’ll show you a place you can sleep. There’s a hot bath too, if you want to warm up first?”

For the first time in forever, there are finally enough baths in the house that nobody needs to queue. The old bathrooms don’t get as much use since San helped Mingi design a bathhouse out in the west wing, complete with a rocky grotto and a wet bar. The old bathrooms are perfect though, for someone needing a quiet place to escape to. Nomia and Ino have been painting the walls with flowers and poetry, and there are locks on all the doors so that nobody needs to share a bath if they don’t want to. 

“Yunho, can you get Daphne a bowl of something hot from the kitchen?” Aphrodite’s leading the nymph across the lawn to the house. “I’ll put her up on east two, Calliope headed home this morning.” The last he sees of their new housemate is Aphrodite rubbing her back gently through the blanket as they head upstairs. 

The kitchen’s full of hot steam and good smells today, the sweet aroma of caramelizing sugar and butter warring with something more savoury, rich and full of garlic. He hears Woo before he sees him, banging pot lids closed while lecturing loudly and cheerfully, something to do with the right length of time it takes to cook eggs. Yeosang’s there too, quiet and serene as usual. He’s sticking to what’s become his side of the kitchen, pouring batter into cupcake tins. 

The automaton still spends time back in Aetna, but when Mingi’s up here he can often be found in the kitchen with Wooyoung. There were arguments in the early days, but it helps that they’ve each staked out a claim on their own bench space and that Yeosang has brought some of the fancy kitchenware from Aetna back with him. The fact that Wooyoung’s extended his fierce protective bubble over Mingi and is willing to scare off any maenads trying to interrupt his design process hasn’t hurt, either.

Yunho has to step over a tangle of dogs to put the sack of sugar down by the pantry. Cerberus is curled around his best friend Hecuba and has the remains of a well-gnawed stick in his paws. Terrier makes a low huff of greeting when he scents Yunho and his tail whacks softly against the linoleum. He bends down to give each of them a pat.

“We’ve got a new guest, thanks to Apollo. Her name’s Daphne, she’s going to be up in east two for now.” 

Woo shoots him a sombre glance; he seems to feel it more than most of them, every time someone has a close escape. He finishes pleating a dumpling with quick, angry movements, drops it onto a plate and wipes his hands on his apron. “Does she need something to eat?” 

“Something warm. She came in by the river.” 

“Hmm, we’ve got the tail end of a stew here, but it’s going kinda crusty. Yeosang, how about we give her some of the soup?” Feeding someone always makes him happier. He’s got a typically Woo gleam back in his eye when he goes on. “How would you describe it, do you think? It’s kinda complicated, but it tastes so good you’ve just gotta go back for more. Yunho, speaking of which, how’s Mingi doing today?” 

The look on Yeosang’s face says hears nothing. There’s just the slightest pause as he dishes up the soup, the faintest hint of a lip curl. He’s not going there. He’s _really_ not going there.

“Still sleeping, last I saw.” San had finally managed to beat Mingi at billiards the previous night, after long weeks of losing swiftly and decisively. Yunho still isn’t sure if Mingi got tired of teasing him and threw the game on purpose, or if San had actually managed to outplay him.

When they’d finally made it to bed Mingi had slept so soundly that he’d barely responded when Yunho had gotten up that morning. He’d just thrown a clumsy arm across Yunho’s leg, mumbled something incoherent and fallen straight back to sleep. It had been a beautiful morning, too, and despite his own exhaustion Yunho had felt the itch to take the dogs out for a dawn run.

“He’s supposed to be working on that sword for Peleus, the wedding’s in less than a week,” says Yeosang. His disapproving tone is ever so slightly undercut by the fact that he’s currently precision-frosting tiny rabbits with carrots onto a finished batch of cupcakes. “I’ll take the soup up to Daphne, if you go wake him up. He’s more likely to listen to you.” Yeosang holds out two decorated cakes for Yunho to take. “But no cake until he gets up.”

Yunho knows perfectly well that Mingi’s going to spend the day working on their new garden plans instead, because the moment he starts talking about them Yunho can see his big sparky brain fire up like a light box and he’s not going to stop until he's done. For all his legal smarts, Yeosang’s just asked Yunho to agree to the wrong thing. He ditches with the cupcakes before the automaton can figure it out. 

Turns out it doesn’t matter anyway, because when he gets upstairs to their room the bed’s empty and hastily made and the curtains are wide open, letting the sun stream in. Something catches his eye in the sunlight as he licks the last of the bunny-frosting off his fingers, a flash of rich colour on the bed. On his pillow sits a familiar flower looped around with a fine gold chain. 

It’s the little bronze rose Mingi made, the same one that Cerberus dug up out of the wedding garden and dropped at his feet last autumn. 

It’s been sitting in his earring bowl since he came back from the Underworld, waiting for him to do something with it. Like everything Mingi makes, the necklace is warmer than he expects it to be, like it’s caught and held a little piece of the sun. The clasp is shaped like two tiny dog paws that hold each other when the necklace fastens.

For such a fiery force of nature he’s a soft, soft marshmallow, the god of the forge. 

Checking it out in the full-length mirror by the bed, the new necklace hangs almost perfectly over the livid white line left behind by Hades’ old silver jewelry. Yunho rubs a quick hand across his eyes and taps the moulding on the back of the mirror, on the off-chance Mingi’s down in Aetna and anywhere near its twin. The glass just gives him back himself, equally soft-marshmallow god of the spring, so he takes the last cupcake off to look for Mingi elsewhere.

He finally tracks him down at the far end of the back porch, under the grapevines. Mingi doesn’t work outside that much; too much unexpected noise, and he’s still a bit squirrelly about being outdoors in the daytime. 

Yunho’s learning to read the signs when Mingi’s working on something, and how he’s going to react to being disturbed. Staring into nothing tapping a pencil against the paper means he’s in the middle of inventor thoughts: interrupt at your peril. Even Woo’s learned to respect the pencil tapping. Slumped facedown on his drawings means either it’s going badly or he was up too late the previous night. Either way, another no-go zone. 

Happily today he’s sketching away at speed, hair sticking up in various directions where he’s been twirling it around his fingers while he works. Close to, Yunho can see a tiny plait hanging over his ear tied with a pinkish crystal the size of a fingernail. It’s visible evidence of San, just like the trail of reddened bruises disappearing below the neckline of Mingi’s shirt, although some of those might have been Yunho. He kinda lost track at some point last night. 

He drops the cupcake on the edge of the desk and a kiss on the top of Mingi’s head. He wants to do a lot more than that — the memory of last night is flooding him with the urge to climb into Mingi’s lap and say good morning properly — but Mingi’s mid-sketch, and now is not the time, and that’s experience talking too. 

Besides, he’s excited to see the plans for the gardens and they’re looking so good, from what he can follow. It’s weird to see the stuff from his head laid out black and white on paper; gonna be weirder still to see it all spring to life out there. Weird and wonderful.

When Hecate and Mingi asked him to come up with ideas for the gardens, he was equal parts excited and shit-scared of somehow screwing it up. The more he thought about it, though, the more the excitement won out. He asked Woo and Yeosang to choose the plants they needed to make a kitchen garden and herb knot, as well as a small orchard out on the flat by the river.

If he’s reading it right though, Mingi’s currently working on his favourite part of the plan, up on the terraces out to the east of the house. He’s always wanted to do something special for Hecate after she took him in, took all of them in and let them run feral in her house, no questions asked. 

He’s never known much about magic, but he knows she’s got an overgrown greenhouse out the back, knows that there’s a strain of natural magic running through what she does. Now that he’s been raiding her bookshelves, he’s come up with a list of plants and trees that they can grow in a series of wild magic gardens and groves. 

And somewhere in between trying to read Hecate’s chicken-scratch notes and using his own plant lore to decipher the old woodblock illustrations in her library, the idea of magic has suckered him right in. 

Hecate’s going to get her own wild magic garden, but she might be getting a new student along with it. He’s only told Mingi for now, but he’s got it in his head that if he can just get one of her simplest spells working, he’s going to ask her to teach him when she gets back.

And if he’s no longer shit-scared about screwing up the gardens, _that_ thought… well, it’s big. 

Looks like Mingi’s going to be busy for a while, so he collects one of the old paperbacks that seems to have what he’s cheerfully hoping are entry-level spells and incantations — at least they’re short, anyway — and joins Seonghwa on the swing seat at the other end of the porch, by the kitchen. The automaton’s working on a pair of Mingi’s trousers to tailor them to fit with his newest brace.

He glances up from his neat row of stitches and smiles at Yunho. “I like the necklace. Yeosang tells me that apparently roses are sacred to Aphrodite?”

Yunho grins. “Did you know she’s claiming the credit for getting Mingi and me together?” She’s been on a roll since the showdown with Zeus — pomegranates, mirrors and roses, apparently they’re all hers — and it’s probably still the leftover adrenaline in her system, but he’s starting to see why she gets on so well with Wooyoung. She’s a pushy menace, the goddess of love. 

Seonghwa snaps the thread off by winding it around a tiny sharp metal spur on his wrist. “Did you know that she asked us if we wanted her to transform us to flesh, the way she did with Galatea? She thought we might be interested, now that it’s not some weird sort of fetish thing for Hades.”

Huh. “Are you going to do it?”

Seonghwa’s lips quirk upwards. “Yeosang’s initial response was not in favour, fair to say. ‘I can conceal a weapon in my forearm right now, you think I’m going to give that up just so that I can see what it’s like to have a headache if I stay up all night reading?’”

“Yeah, that makes sense. What about you?”

Seonghwa toes the porch swing into motion with the tip of his boot, hums in response. “I… don’t know. I’m curious. I’m always curious, about everything.” He reaches out to trace the rose with one elegant finger. “But I like who we are right now. I like how we were made, and what we were made for, and I want to honour that too. I think… I think I’d like to stay as we are for now. We’ve still got a lot to explore this way. With what we can do. And, with each other.”

He snips off a new length of thread and bends back to his sewing. There’s always something so calming about his company; he’s such a good match for Yeosang’s intensity in that way. Yunho gets comfortable sitting cross legged on the swing and they fall into an easy silence, each absorbed in their own work. 

He flips through the book without reading much of it for a while, trying to make sense of the way it works, trying to find a way in. To tell the truth he may be fighting a losing battle, asking Hecate to teach him. He knows her well enough that he already knows what she’s gonna say to him; same thing she said when he asked to learn petteia. You’re a nice boy, Yunho. Look at those hands, look how clean they are. How pretty. Why d’you want to learn something hard and nasty like that?

But he knows what his answer will be, too. It’s because when things turned to shit, he couldn’t help anyone he loved stay safe. Mingi’s a force to be reckoned with, when he has to be. The automatons have their blades, Mother of Titans, even Woo has his knives and he was prepared to gut Hades just for making Yunho sad. He knows deep in his bones that he’s going to be an indifferent fighter; spring’s just too gentle at heart. But defence, oh, defence he can do. Patience and persistence and the ability to weather whatever comes his way. The strength to protect, that he’s got. He just needs the means, and Hecate’s magic _calls_ to him.

He gets so caught up trying to understand what this one deceptively simple diagram is showing him — apparently the right way to hold his fingers to channel some sort of aetheric energies — that he completely loses track of time. When he looks up again, he’s surprised to see that Seonghwa’s gone and Mingi’s taken his place on the porch swing. It’s gotten darker, too. The sun’s almost down, which would explain why he’s having so much trouble seeing the pages. The evenings are shorter now, heading into autumn.

Mingi’s already feeling the cold, maybe, because he’s got one of the big blankets from the nymphs’ blanket forts on his lap. This close the marks they’ve left down his neck look like a bookmark left in a book, little reminders about picking up where he left off. He reaches out and traces them with a finger, remembering the salt taste of sweat on Mingi’s skin. All of a sudden he’s hungry; for dinner, for Mingi. For everything. “Are you thinking of sleeping out in the meadow tonight?”

They’ve tried it a few times over summer, dragged mattresses and blankets out and slept under the stars. Mingi’s not a big fan of bugs, but he’s learning to be okay with the odd moth or spider nearby as long as Yunho scares them away for him. 

Mingi’s eyes are curved in that familiar amused smile that he loves as he tilts his jaw to allow Yunho more access to his neck. “Nah, it’s too cold. I’ll just end up clinging to you like a limpet, whining all night.”

“I can think of worse ways to spend the night.” Yunho really wants to taste those marks again but Mingi seems to be missing the exhibitionist streak that fuels most of the nymphs and they’re in full view of the kitchen windows, so he holds off for now. “I kinda like making you whine, anyway. And I need to find some way to thank you for this.” He runs a hand along the necklace and across the petals of the rose. 

“Oh yeah, that’s what the blanket’s for. Not for saying thanks, although hold that thought. I just wanted to show you something, and it’s not quite dark enough yet.”

Mingi flips the heavy blanket over both of them and Yunho helps him adjust it until they’re completely covered. It pulls them both closer together in an intimate little space, cosy and warm, scented faintly with the spicy smells of the kitchen.

“Hold the rose in your hand,” says Mingi. “Let it warm up.” His voice is lower, huskier in the dark and Yunho finds himself shifting closer on the swing. It’s partly the weight of the blanket on him, but it’s also because when he’s this close to Mingi there’s an urge to get even closer that he doesn’t _want_ to fight. Right now Yunho wants to lean all the way along him, like Cerberus when he’s hoping to get an itch scratched.

“Come on, the rose, Yunho.” He can hear Mingi smiling, like he knows exactly where his head’s at. 

“Give me a moment.” He still can’t see a thing under here yet, and while he’s dealing better with being in the dark, he has his moments. His heart’s already racing, although that might be the Mingi effect, too. Yunho reaches out a hand carefully and somehow manages to avoid poking him in the eye. Slides a palm down his cheek until he can trace the full softness of his mouth, feel the smile under his fingers.

 _There_ you are, gotcha. He closes the distance between them and kisses him so soft, the lightest butterfly brush, teases him with just the tip of his tongue and Mingi exhales into his mouth and leans forward to increase the contact. Yunho licks across his full lower lip and licks again, deeper, into Mingi’s mouth, their tongues meeting and meshing together.

_I’m very very dedicated to doing things right._

So brilliantly true, as it turns out, the thoroughness Mingi brings to everything he does. He’s mastered the art of the slow, deep kisses that make Yunho’s toes curl and his whole body sing with anticipation until he’s all but whimpering into Mingi’s mouth. 

Mingi’s the one who breaks the kiss first. He leans against Yunho’s forehead with a hand cupped around the back of his neck, rubbing his neck with those strong, skillful fingers, breath coming just a little rougher than before. 

“Wanna show you something, before I forget it completely. Hold the rose, okay?”

Yunho pulls away reluctantly and wraps his fingers around the necklace. As the metal starts to heat he slowly realises that he can see Mingi, even in the dark under the blanket. There’s a faint light coming from the rose when he releases it; a silvery gold light that paints warmth across Mingi’s angular face and makes his dark eyes sparkle. 

“I wanted to make it so you’ll never get trapped in the dark again,” he says.

Moments like this steal all of Yunho’s words away. There’s such an unguarded honesty and sweetness to the way Mingi operates sometimes that he feels totally unprepared for. His own feelings are so powerful at times like this that it’s like a million different emotions rise out of his chest and choke him silent. He just doesn’t have the right words for them, not yet. 

_I’m yours._ That’s a part of it. _Whatever you want, however you want it_ , that’s there too, and _I don’t know how to keep you safe._

And Mingi gets that, he thinks. He sees the whole beautiful, impossibly messy tangle of what he means to Yunho, right there in his eyes. His smile is as easy as ever as he reaches out and takes Yunho’s hand in his.

“So, is this what it’s like in the blanket forts? Because I was wondering. It always sounds like they’re having the best time.”

Yunho makes a mental note to build a fort up on the couches at Mingi height someday soon, maybe at the next party. “Kind of? There are usually a few more people, and they play a lot of spin the bottle.”

“Ah, that explains all the kissing.”

“Oh, they’re not playing for kisses. You know nymphs, they’ll kiss anyone anytime.”

“Interesting.” His thumb rubs back and forth, warm and strong on Yunho’s hand. There’s a delicious edge of friction to it, just a mere hint of the way he can wield it to bring Yunho to his knees. “What’s the deal, then?”

“Mostly it’s to see who goes down on who.”

Oh, that eye smile, with the slow, teasing friction of the thumb along his hand and the pretty chain of bites and bruises leading Yunho south down that body... He’s pretty sure Mingi can read _those_ thoughts on his face right now — the goddess of love did call him an open book when it came to Mingi — and he’s just about to push him backwards on the swing when someone calls his name.

“Yunho! Have you got Mingi under there?”

_Yeosang._

He’s going to dismantle him, he really is.

“Make yourselves decent.” That’s all the warning they get before the blanket gets whipped off them and he’s left blinking in the sudden influx of air and light. 

“Before you tell me that cockblocking isn’t a function you programmed into me, can I remind you that you need to eat something?”

Yunho opens his mouth to answer but Yeosang stops him with a level stare that contains just the merest twitch of a smile. “No dick jokes, I meant food. There’s soup and stew, and Mingi, if you haven’t spent the day working on Peleus’ sword, then you’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

They’ve both learned by now that there’s no use fighting Yeosang when there’s a work deadline involved. Mingi polishes off three bowls of stew, kisses Yunho thoroughly as Yeosang waits at his elbow making impatient noises and heads off down to Aetna to work on the sword. 

He’s likely to be there for hours, so Yunho decides to do the adult thing and channel his frustrated horniness into magic. That’s probably a thing, he’s pretty sure he’s heard Hecate talk about it before, magic and sex. He takes the book to bed with him and flips through it again, looking for something simple. 

What catches his eye in the end, it’s not the easiest exercise in the book. It involves a whole series of the confusing hand signals he was trying to figure out earlier, and a spoken component written in blurry pencil in the margin that he’s not fully sure he can read properly. But what it does, though, that’s what gets him.

‘To invoke a simple creation made of light.’

It’s Mingi’s voice he hears when he reads it, telling him he’s never going to get trapped in the dark again. He wants to give him something back, to do something that’ll make him proud, and this just feels _right_. 

He considers choosing one of their other flowers to work with; a blossom, a wildflower, even the dove petals, but in the end he settles on a rose, because that’s where it all started. That first meeting under Aetna, and the first steps to getting his own life back.

He takes the necklace off and sets it on the bedside table to use as a reference. 

He’s not sure how long it takes him in the end, except that by the time he sees the first droplets of light starting to form his legs have long since gone numb, his back is aching and his fingers are sore and cramped. With a little concentration and one last repetition of what he thinks the incantation is supposed to sound like, he’s able to pull the droplets together and form them into something almost recognizable.

He waves a hand over them and the shape of the rose lightens and brightens with the smallest of pink glows. Waves it again and the light builds, flickering. Passes and repasses with his hands held just so until he can make the rose flare bright enough to make his eyes prickle. And there it is — a flower made of light and will, turning gently in the air.

It’s nothing useful, nothing powerful, not yet. He’s not going to keep them all safe from Zeus and the others with a rose made out of light, no matter how pretty.

It’s one more of their small beginnings though, like Aphrodite training Hecate’s hounds to watch the borders of the property for divine trespassers. Like the maenads teaching Seonghwa all their dirtiest swordplay tricks. Like Mingi and San fixing up the old ballroom as an armory and starting to build safe rooms down in Aetna. Small things that lead to bigger things, in time.

He sets the magical rose down on the bedside table, where the wavering light plays along the crystals in his earring bowl and turns the picture of Cerberus a shadowy pink. Flicks it with his fingers and starts it rotating slowly, the gentle light ebbing and flowing. 

He’s still learning how it works when Mingi finally makes it back from Aetna. He smells like metal and smoke and pure exhaustion, but he strips his clothes off with a tired enthusiasm and drops down to curl up on the bed at Yunho’s back.

“Ah, you did it? You _did_ it.” he says. “Look at that. S’pretty.” He pokes at the rose gently and his finger slides right through it, but when Yunho touches it spins a little faster, tilting on its orbit.

“It’s a start,” says Yunho. 

“It’s more than a start, it’s _magic_. Your magic.” Or maybe he says _you’re magic_ , and either way, it’s true. Mingi’s breath tickles the back of his neck before he presses a firm kiss against Yunho’s shoulder. “I sent the earrings to Hera yesterday.”

Yunho turns over so that he can see Mingi properly. The pretty pink glow from the rose casts shadows from his pointed nose and puts tiny points of warm light in his eyes. 

Back when San had first told them that Hera had been helping people find a way to their house, Mingi had made a present for his mother. Yunho had been the only one he’d showed what he’d made; a pair of golden earrings in the shape of skylarks, because he’d thought that maybe Hera needed to see them too. 

When Yunho had asked Mingi what he meant, what the skylarks meant, he’d said _Happiness. Freedom. Love._

“You sent them with Aphrodite?”

“Yeah, I figure she can smuggle them in, if anyone can.”

That sweetness edged with hope is back on Mingi’s face again. The openness to whatever comes next, without any expectation that things are necessarily going to change. 

“Are you gonna let her come visit, if she asks?”

“It might not be safe for everyone if I bring her here yet, but I thought I could maybe take her to Aetna. If she wants. Can you come down with me, if it happens?”

“Of course, if you want me there.”

Mingi’s crooked grin has a teasing edge to it. “I want to show her everything I’m most proud of, so I kinda need you there.”

“Mingi, stop, I’m gonna weep. Gonna cry big fat tears all over you.”

He makes his eyes big and sad as he can, whips out the Sweetheart pout until Mingi’s hand comes up to clamp around his mouth and force it back into a more acceptable shape.

“Honeysuckle, so help me, you’re a very, very difficult person to love.”

“And yet you manage it,” he says, or tries to say around a mouthful of Mingi’s fingers.

“I liked you a lot better when you were apologizing all the time. Unrepentant Yunho is a brat.”

“Only to you. Everyone else thinks I'm a sweetheart. The universal boyfriend of Hecate’s house.”

“Oh, I’ve got news for you, peony. They know. Believe me. They’re just relying on me to whip you into shape, keep you in line. At the very least wear you out.”

There’s an intimate challenge in his soft voice and all at once, all of Yunho’s earlier horniness pricks up its ears and starts wagging its tail. It’s like doing magic has made him _more_ touch starved and actually, now that he remembers it, maybe that was Hecate’s point at the time. Sex and magic, magic and sex. Huh.

“Okay, on your back, god of the forge. I wanna say thanks for the necklace, if you’re not too tired.”

“Ah, you know you don’t owe me anything, you know I wanted to do it.” 

Mingi’s watching him through shuttered eyes though, and he knows that look. Good old #1. Soft, horny. Probably both. Yunho smiles up at him. “And I wanna do you. So we’re good.”

He taps lightly on his chest and just like that, Mingi rolls obligingly onto his back — _total_ pushover — and Yunho swings a leg over his thighs to straddle him. Finally, _finally_ he gets to pay some attention to the marks across Mingi’s skin like he’s been longing to do all day, tonguing them, nipping at each of them while Mingi makes quiet, helpless noises beneath him. 

He leaves a few new marks across his stomach and hips, too, in a couple of the places San had been too impatient to get to, but he’s impatient as well. When he gets to Mingi’s cock it’s still soft and so warm to the touch, already damp at the tip, sliding easily into his mouth. He curls his tongue and swallows around him, making Mingi whine lightly at the sensation. Moves his head up and down, taking his time, licking along and around his fattening cock with increasing pressure. 

Mingi’s hand drifts down to play with his hair just the way he likes it, stroking his head for now but he’ll get more urgent soon enough, and Yunho likes that too. As Mingi gets harder it starts to be more of a challenge to take him all in. He has to work for it, getting used to the feel of him filling his mouth and nudging against the back of his throat, one hand wrapped around the base to control how deeply he’s taking him. 

When he flicks his tongue across the sensitive head as he moves up the shaft Mingi’s hand clenches in his hair, and his whine becomes soft breathy words. “Oh, Yunho, yeah, _just_ like that, ohhh yeah please…” The sound of his pleading is so sweet and he flicks his tongue across Mingi’s cockhead again, just to hear him beg some more.

He loves the sting of his hair being pulled as Mingi gets closer to the edge, loves the way Mingi loses his words and gives him nothing but incoherent encouragement and panting moans as he speeds up the movement of his mouth and hand. 

Mingi’s grip tightening on his hair and one last loud choking moan is all the warning he gets before Mingi thrusts up into his mouth deep enough to stop his breath for a moment. A thick stream of warm come coats his tongue and throat, as he swallows around it. He pulls off to lap the last drops off as they slide from the head of Mingi’s cock. His jaw is slightly numb but he’s smiling as he drags himself up to lie flush alongside Mingi’s body. 

He lets Mingi get his breath back for a moment before he shares the taste of him on his tongue in a long, drawn out and messy kiss. 

Mingi looks almost boneless, eyes hooded and nearly closed. “What about you, can’t just let you go to sleep like that.”

“Just wanna snuggle.” 

He’s half hard but there’s no sense of urgency about it, there’ll be plenty of time in the morning. For now, he just wants to enjoy the solid warmth of Mingi next to him, admire his sharp, beloved profile and give him a few more sleepy kisses before he turns over to sleep. 

When he next looks for it, the light rose has faded from the bedside table. Must have vanished sometime during the course of the blowjob when his concentration went south, but at least he knows he can do it now. 

It’s a start. Step by step, they chip away at it all.

“G’night, apple blossom,” Mingi mumbles into the nape of his neck. He’s asleep within moments.

Yunho reaches out for his new necklace and holds the metal rose in his palm to warm it up again. 

Just like the pomegranate seeds, it’s a necklace made of ‘what if’s’; what if Cerberus had never brought the rose to him in the first place? What if he hadn’t followed the hellhound into the park, or been too chicken to go down the tunnel? The slender chain of events that led him here, it’s so fine and fragile that it’s scary, but it’s strong as tempered steel as well. 

He’s here. He’s safe. And for the first time in however many years he’s not scared of the coming autumn. Not scared of the winter.

He sits the necklace on the bedside table and lays back to watch the golden light from the bronze rose die down like the embers of a fire. The last sparks of it are still glowing softly as he drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR COMING ON THIS RIDE WITH ME 💖💖💖💖💖
> 
> I want to thank everyone who’s read, commented and made the most beautiful art for this rollercoaster — and one last shout out to @pinkycelly’s [incredible hephaestus!mingi](https://twitter.com/pinkycelly/status/1332473252829159424?s=21%20rel=) which gives the chapter its name and Yunho his necklace. 
> 
> Please don’t be shy to let me know what you thought because I love love LOVE all your comments and feedback!!!
> 
> Wishing everyone a happy and safe 2021, and as ever missing & wishing the best for all-round precious gem Song Mingi ❤️❤️❤️

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to come chat on twt (@nellidae) about ateez or writing anytime!


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